


Stitched

by irritablevowel



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Rated T for language and one heavy make-out session
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-04-15 01:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4587876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irritablevowel/pseuds/irritablevowel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukino Usagi didn't think her terrible day could get any worse after she cut her finger and landed in the emergency room. That was before she knew who would be stitching her up . . . (UsaMamo AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Antigone2 for all of her feedback and encouragement! <3

stitched (stichd) _v_ 1\. joined, mended, or fastened together

* * *

Usagi sniffled as she studied the delicate pink flowers on the kitchen towel wrapped around her finger, its pattern now permanently marred by a bloom of crimson blood. Her friend Makoto had meticulously embroidered the towel and given it to her as a house-warming gift when she finally moved out of her parents place. Now, less than six months later, the bloodied towel she studied not only underscored her failure as a friend, but as an adult as well. 

As a child and teenager, Usagi had been notoriously clumsy. A constellation of scars decorated her arms and legs; wounds from battles with cabinet corners and concrete staircases. Thankfully, she had grown out of it. Her once short, gangly body was now taller, more mature. As an adolescent, she felt as if her body were cobbled together with random, leftover parts. She used to trip over her own feet; now, at 25, she walked with grace and purpose, finally confident in herself and her body. It had been many years since she’d suffered a klutz attack and was not pleased about the relapse. 

She fought back her tears as she looked around the emergency room waiting area. A few others were waiting to be processed as their loved ones comforted them or filled out paperwork. It dawned on her that she was the only one there alone; the realization made her feel worse than ever. She had been too overwhelmed in the immediate aftermath of her accident to contact anyone, and now she was too embarrassed. Maybe once she was patched up she would be able to work up the courage to tell her friends what had happened, but for now . . .

“Tsukino Usagi?” She looked up as the nurse called her name and nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Follow me,” the intake nurse said, gesturing to the disheveled blonde woman seated before her. Usagi gathered her purse from the waiting room chair with her good hand and shuffled after the older woman as she was led into the emergency care ward. The nurse pointed to one of the empty beds and pulled curtains around either side of it as Usagi sat down, creating the illusion of privacy. 

“The doctor will be with you in a few minutes,” the nurse informed her briskly before returning to her post at the night reception desk.

Usagi briefly reflected on the events that brought her to this humiliating point. It had already been the worst day in a bad week—and that was before she had sliced her finger trying to cut that damn onion. Now she was sitting in the hospital in her pink bunny-patterned pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, clutching a bloody towel around her throbbing finger. She could have sworn she was cutting it just like Mako-chan had showed her . . . 

“D-Dumpling Head?”

Usagi’s head whipped around at the sound of her most hated nickname, blanching at the sight of the man standing before her. It had been many years since she had last run in to Chiba Mamoru, the neighborhood high-school boy who once upon a time had a knack for turning up at her most embarrassing middle-school moments—like the time he witnessed her get tangled in her own hair and land face-first on the brick sidewalk. Or the time he showed up at her favorite arcade right as she managed to trip a waitress carrying a full tray of milkshakes. Or the time he just happened to be directly behind her as she wadded up and tossed her abysmal English test into the air, hitting him squarely between the eyes. Come to think of it, that was the first time he had called her “Dumpling Head,” a nickname taunting her signature double-bun hairstyle. He always seemed to know exactly what to say in those moments to absolutely enrage Usagi. 

Their banter back then had been the stuff of legends. She had lost count of the nights she had spent lying awake in bed, thinking of the perfect comebacks to his latest taunt . . . if only she had thought of them at the time. This was the man who now stood before her with a bemused look on his annoyingly handsome face, in what may have been the lowest point yet in her adult life. Seeing him made her instantly feel like a klutzy, crybaby 15-year-old again.

“I was wondering if I’d run in to you here one of these days,” he remarked with a smirk. 

It was all too much for Usagi—what little self-control she had left crumbled and she burst into tears. 

Mamoru stared at the distraught young woman before him, momentarily at a loss. This was not the response he had been anticipating. He had hoped that his wisecrack would earn a snappy comeback, perking Usagi up in the process. He chided himself for being so naïve. She was obviously in the emergency room for a reason; how could he say something like that to her after all those years, and when she was in pain?

“Dumpling . . . I . . .” 

“My . . . name . . . is . . . _USAGI!_ ” she yelled between sobs.

“Of course, U-Usagi-san. I’m sorry, really,” he said sitting down on a rolling stool by her bed, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I-I didn’t mean to upset you. Please accept my apologies.” With his free hand he pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket and offered them to her. She reluctantly accepted, and gradually her sobs eased into sniffles. 

Despite what he had told her earlier, when he had first saw Usagi sitting there, in his hospital of all places, he was caught completely off guard. It had been years since he’d seen the bubbly blonde, but back in his high-school years she seemed to be everywhere, disrupting his life at every turn. At first, he was annoyed by her clumsy, brash ways. But he soon realized there was a lot more to the petite blonde teen than bad grades and skinned knees. People were drawn to her in a way he’d never seen before, and it didn’t take long before Mamoru was enjoying their encounters more than he dared to let on. She exuded life and joy, and was all too happy to bestow her effervescence upon those around her. No one who was lucky enough to count Usagi as a friend would ever be lonely again. 

“Ah, Dr. Chiba. I see you’re already assisting my next patient.” They looked up as a kind-looking older man in a lab coat and old-fashioned glasses addressed Mamoru. 

‘Wait,’ Usagi thought, ‘ _Doctor_ Chiba?’ One glance at Mamoru’s lab coat confirmed it: his name was embroidered in dark blue on the breast pocket. She inwardly cringed. Learning that her old nemesis was now a successful doctor did not make her feel any better.

The older man picked up her chart and quickly read through the information. “So, Tsukino-san, you cut your finger?” 

“I’d be happy to patch her up, Dr. Saito,” Mamoru cut in, before Usagi had a chance to answer.

“Isn’t your shift over?” Dr. Saito asked.

“Well, yes, but I’m sure it won’t take too long. Plus, she’s an old friend.” Mamoru smiled at her; she glared back.

“I suppose it’s alright,” he said, handing over her chart. “I hope you feel better soon, Tsukino-san.” Dr. Saito gave Mamoru a friendly pat on the shoulder before moving on to the next patient.

Mamoru quickly looked through her chart, then set it down. 

“That really wasn’t necessary, _Doctor Chiba_ ,” she said, sarcastically emphasizing his name and title.

“I know, but I wanted to. I promise I’ll take good care of you.” Usagi looked at him skeptically, but he seemed sincere. 

“All right,” he said, holding out his hands. “Let’s see the finger.” 

She hesitated, clutching her injured hand—still tightly wrapped in Mako-chan’s towel—to her chest.

“Oh come on, you’ve been wanting to give me the finger for years,” he deadpanned. She stared at him for a brief moment, then gave a small chuckle. The tension in her shoulders seemed to ease. Screwing up her courage, she offered him her injured hand.

“First I’m going to unwrap your finger, OK?” She nodded. He gently peeled back the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep cut on her left-hand index finger. She stared at the wound, feeling slightly nauseated. She had forgotten how gruesome it looked. Free from its wrapping, the cut began bleeding again. 

“How did you say this happened?” he asked, gently examining the finger. 

“Cutting an onion.”

“Hmm. Can you bend your finger?”

She grimaced, forcing her stiff and aching finger to move. He continued to examine her finger, assessing the extent of the damage.

“Well, the good news is that you didn’t seem to damage to any nerves or tendons. The bad news is that you are going to need stitches.” 

Usagi sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

Mamoru smiled reassuringly. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and lie down while I go get prepped?” 

She did as she suggested, trying to keep her mind off of the pain and the impending procedure. Mamoru returned a few minutes later, pushing a cart with various medical instruments, a small metal basin, and bottles of water and disinfectant.

“OK, first I’m going to numb your finger. I’m afraid it will sting quite a bit,” he explained, picking up a large syringe. She gawked at the size of the needle.

“Just do it quick and get it over with!” she said, shutting her eyes.

He picked up her hand, holding it firmly, then began administering the shots. 

‘He lied,’ Usagi thought, clenching her eyes shut tight. ‘This doesn’t sting—it’s _EXCRUCIATING_.’ A few tears rolled down her cheeks. Soon though, the pain eased and then was gone entirely. 

“How’s that feel?” he asked.

“Nice and numb, finally,” she said, wiping the last of the tears from her eyes. 

“Good,” he said, putting down the syringe. “So . . . you did this while cutting an onion?” 

“Yeah, my last one, too,” she sighed. 

“What were you making?” he asked, placing her injured hand over the basin and beginning to wash and sterilize the wound. 

“A big batch of curry . . . it was _supposed_ to be my dinner for the rest of the week. Guess that’s not happening now that I bled all over the vegetables.”

He gave her a sympathetic glance as he dried her hand and placed it on sterile paper. When Mamoru began threading the needle, she shut her eyes tight, placing her crook of her arm over her face for good measure.

“That’s a really beautiful ring,” he said, picking up her left hand once more.

“Thank you.”

“It’s moonstone, right?” She could feel her hand being rotated this way and that as he began to stitch her up.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen one with such an intricate carving.”

“I . . . yeah. It’s very special to me.” 

“I don’t know why, but I’ve always had a thing for rocks and crystals.” 

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Yeah. I collected rocks a as a kid. I must have had a dozen shoeboxes full—all mounted, labeled, and classified, of course. It drove my aunt crazy.” He smiled at the memory. “I actually considered going into mineralogy, but I think I always knew I really wanted to be a doctor.” 

She moved her right arm to her chest and opened her eyes, watching him skillfully going about his task. “I think you made the right choice, Mamoru-san,” she said softly. He looked at her, surprised at her kind words. She gave him a small smile, then turned her head away. They sat in silence as he finished stitching up her finger. 

“All done! Take a look and tell me what you think of my handiwork before I bandage you up.” She nervously looked at her mutilated finger, staring at the giant black stitches that now ran across it. 

“Oh my god.” She paled and put her head back on the pillow, clenching her eyes shut.

He chuckled at her response. “Well, I think I did a great job, if I do say so myself. I promise it will heal beautifully. In a year or two you’ll barely be able to see the scar.” 

He picked up gauze and began bandaging her finger. “You’re going to have to take it easy for a few days. No alcohol, no partying, no strenuous physical activity. I’m going to write you some prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotics. Be sure to follow the instructions on the labels. You’ll need to set up an appointment to come back in a week and see me so I can assess how your cut is healing and hopefully take out the stitches.” She nodded and he helped her sit up. She put her uninjured hand to her head and rubbed her eyes.

“You feeling OK?” 

“Yeah, I’m OK. I’m just a little out of it. It’s been a very long day.”

“That’s understandable. You can sit here as long as you need to.”

Her stomach chose that moment to protest its lack of dinner. Mamoru smiled.

“Hungry?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, as her stomach continued to grumble. “I don’t know what I’m going to eat though, since my dinner is ruined.” She bit her lip, thinking about her empty bank account. The end of the month was always a pinch, but the medical bills for the day were going to put her balance distressingly close to 0. 

“I’ll tell you what, Usagi-san. How about you go check out and get your medications from the night pharmacy, and then I’ll treat you to some dinner.”

“Mamoru-san, I couldn’t ask you to do that . . .”

“I know, but I’d be happy to. You need dinner, _I_ need dinner . . . plus it would be a good chance to catch up for real. I’d love to know what you’ve been up to in the last decade.” 

“Really?” She regarded him skeptically. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m in my pajamas . . .”

“Absolutely,” he said with a reassuring smile. 

She thought about it. She definitely needed to eat, and the last thing she wanted to do was go home and cook—never mind the fact that her cupboards were pretty much bare. She could always raid her parents’ kitchen tomorrow and beg Mako-chan for scraps from her restaurant for the rest of the week but tonight . . . Her stomach growled again, taking her out of her reverie. Her decision was made. She set her face into a determined look and nodded.

“All right Dr. Chiba, I accept your offer.” 

He couldn’t help but smile at the familiar look on her face. He felt like he was 17 again, surreptitiously watching her from across the arcade as she tenaciously battled pixelated monsters. Many years had passed since then, but she was still as adorable as ever.

“Great,” he said, taking out a prescription pad and jotting down the pertinent information. “Take these slips to the night pharmacist and she’ll get you set up. I’ll meet you over by the after-hours entrance once I’m done cleaning up. Oh, and be sure to make a follow-up appointment for a week from today when you check out.”

Twenty minutes later, Usagi found herself waiting for her old nemesis in the hospital vestibule. Hair brushed, face rinsed, and finger comfortably numb, she was finally starting to feel like herself again. Mamoru soon appeared, dressed casually in slacks and a light blue button-up shirt, breaking into a smile at the sight of her. 

“So,” he said as they stepped outside, “how does curry sound?” 

“It sounds perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Finally!” Usagi rejoiced as they entered the restaurant. She made a beeline for the nearest empty booth and quickly grabbed a menu. Mamoru followed her lead, joining her a few seconds later. Soon, a server sporting the restaurant chain’s trademark baseball cap approached the table, dropping off two glasses of water.

“Do you folks need another minute or are you ready to order?”

“I’m ready! How about you, Mamoru-san?” 

“Sure,” he replied, not wanting to stand between her and her meal.

Usagi gleefully ordered, elated that her long personal nightmare (i.e. being hungry) was over. Mamoru smirked as he listened to her list her impressive order, then gave his own.

“By the way Mamoru-san, thanks for agreeing to come all the way to Roppongi. It really means a lot,” she said gratefully after the server gathered their menus and headed back to the kitchen.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I found a parking spot pretty easily in that lot near your place, after all.” She smiled at his reply.

“So, Usagi-san,” Mamoru continued, sitting back and resting his right arm on top of the booth, “tell me what you’ve been up to for the last 10 years.”

“Oh gosh,” she said, knitting her fingers together and placing them on the table. “Well, I managed to graduate from high school—which, by the way, was pretty much the happiest day of my life—then . . . I dunno, worked in a shop in Shinjuku for a little while. Then my friend Naru-chan—do you remember her? She has wavy brown hair . . . I’m sure you saw her at Crown Arcade with me sometime . . .” She stared at Mamoru expectantly, but he shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “Well, anyway, Naru-chan’s mother, Osaka-san, runs a jewelry store in Juban called OSA-P. Naru-chan was working there after graduation, but then she got married and had Yui-chan and wanted to stay home with her. At first I was just going to work there part time until Osaka-san found a permanent replacement, but I ended up doing really well so she hired me full time, and I’ve been there ever since.”

“Do you like it?”

“I mean, it’s not perfect, but I like it for the most part. I’ve been doing some custom work in the last year or two, and I really enjoy that a lot.”

“Custom work? What does that entail?” he asked, leaning forward.

“So, sometimes a customer will have a general idea about what they want, and I just refine their ideas or help them with the process. Like, someone might come in looking for a ring that has a certain type or style of gem or band, but they want to tweak it in some way. I help with that. But I also have clients who pretty much give me free reign to create pieces for them. It’s really a nice feeling when that happens—to know that they trust me that much. Plus I get a good commission from those pieces. That’s how I was finally able to afford to move out of my parents’ place.”

“Wow, that’s really great,” he replied, looking at her with admiration. “I would love to see one of your pieces sometime.” 

“Well . . . remember my ring?” She held up her left hand, offering it to him once more. 

“You made that?” he asked, pulling her hand closer to get a better look. She giggled.

“Yep! It was one of my first pieces. It’s actually what started getting me clients. My dad bought me the stone while he was on a photojournalism assignment. I carved it and made the setting.”

“Wow, Usagi-san, that’s incredible.” Mamoru gazed at the ring, taking in the intricate carving. The hazy white stone had been expertly carved to resemble a rose in bloom. The stone was held in place by golden petals, while an elegant gold vine wound its way around Usagi’s finger; its delicate, translucent petals shimmered in the restaurant’s dim light. It looked so alive Mamoru could almost swear it was blooming a little under his intense gaze. He couldn’t help noticing that the rose seemed to softly glow from its very core. ‘Just like Usagi,’ he thought to himself.

“Food!” Usagi cheered suddenly, pulling her hand away so the server could set down their orders. Mamoru felt slightly dazed as he slowly reached for his coffee. He cleared his throat, then took a sip.

“You have a real talent, Usagi-san,” he remarked, watching her over his coffee cup as she happily began devouring her meal. 

“Thanks!” she replied after polishing off the first fried pork loin that had, until a moment ago, been situated atop her curry. 

Mamoru smirked as he picked up his spoon and began eating. He was not surprised when she finished her food before he was even halfway done. 

“Oh thank god, I actually feel human again,” she declared, rubbing her stomach. She thanked the busser as he reached across the table to clear her empty dishes, then set her sights on Mamoru.

“So, Mamoru-san. Doctor Chiba.” She giggled as he raised an eyebrow at her. “What have you been up to all this time? I mean, besides insulting innocent blondes and then bribing them with food.” 

“And just what, pray tell, are you insinuating?” he inquired with a haughty expression, taking another bite of food.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to insult your move,” she teased. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Hey, I’m not saying it didn’t work! I’m here, aren’t I?” 

“Ever hear the expression, ‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you?’” he inquired, pointing his fork at her. 

“Maybe . . .” She smirked as he gave her a quick wink. “OK, but seriously. You’re a doctor now. I mean, you like, save peoples lives. It must be amazing.” 

“Yeah, it really is,” he acknowledged. “There’s nothing like it. Honestly, ever since I was a kid all I’ve ever wanted to do was help save people and make the world a better place. I feel really fortunate to be doing what I’m doing.” 

Usagi’s eyes softened. “So how long have you been a doctor?”

“A little over three years now, but after I got licensed I still had another two years of training I had to complete before I could practice, so I’ve really only been out of school for about a year.”

“My friend Ami-chan is in medical school right now. She loves it but it’s pretty much all she does now.”

“Yeah, medical school is definitely a huge commitment and a lot of people burn out. But it’s really great, too. I learned a lot and met a lot of amazing people. And now I’m doing what I love.”

“Aww, I’m so happy for you, Mamoru-san.”

“Thank you, Usagi-san,” he replied sincerely, giving her a crooked smile that made her heart skip a beat. 

“So,” she began, trying to keep a blush from creeping onto her cheeks, “tell me about your favorite patient.” He looked thoughtful as he took another bite of food. “I mean, besides me, obviously,” she added. He smirked.

“Favorite patient, huh?” She nodded eagerly as he continued to ponder his answer. “Well, I don’t really have a favorite, favorite, but if I had to choose . . . there was a young boy—about 5 years old—who came in last fall. He had pulled a pot of boiling water off of the burner and ended up with terrible scalds along his back and right shoulder and arm. He was in a lot of pain when he came into the ER.” Mamoru picked up his coffee cup and took a sip before continuing. “He was in the burn ward for a few months getting treated and I visited him often, even though he wasn’t my patient anymore. Despite his injuries he was happy and well adjusted. For the most part he didn’t mind the examinations he underwent several times a day, didn’t complain about the painful treatments, didn’t make a fuss over the rehabilitation he had to go through. I can’t tell you what it’s like to see a child go through something like that and still almost always have a smile on his face. He had this amazing gift of making everyone around him feel relaxed and happy. I don’t think I’ll ever forget him.” 

“That poor child. Will he be OK?”

“Yes, thankfully. He will need to keep coming in for a while for rehab to make sure he regains full movement of his right arm, but his prognosis is good.”

Usagi shook her head, amazed at the story. 

“They’re not all like that, obviously. There are good days and bad days. And . . . unusual days.”

“Unusual days?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t believe some of the things that people do to themselves,” he remarked with a smirk.

“Ooo, like what?” she asked, leaning forward.

Mamoru chuckled. “Let’s just say that I’ve removed more foreign bodies from various rectums than I ever thought possible.”

Usagi looked confused for a moment, prompting Mamoru to clarify: “Butts. People stick lots of things up their butts.” 

Usagi turned bright red and stared at him with a stunned expression before bursting into peals of laughter. 

“Oh my god I have to tell Minako-chan! She’s gonna love that.” He grinned, then took another bite of food. She continued to pepper him with questions about his job as he finished his meal, curious about his life as a real–life medical professional. Finally, plate emptied, coffee cup drained, and curiosity sated, Mamoru sighed and grabbed the check off the table.

“Shall we go?” She nodded in agreement, gathering her purse off the booth. A few minutes later, they stepped back into the night. 

“Thank you so much for dinner, Mamoru-san,” she said as they began walking back toward her apartment along the dark and narrow neighborhood roads. “I didn’t think it would be possible, but you’ve managed to turn my day around.” 

“If that was the best part of your day, it must have been pretty bad,” he teased as they briefly stepped into a pool of light cast by the streetlight above.

“Oh, it was.”

“Care to tell me what happened?”

“Well, to begin with, I . . . I’ve been having a hard time falling asleep lately, so I wound up sleeping through my alarm this morning and was late to work and got lectured by my boss.”

“Is that unusual?” Mamoru teased, smirking at the blonde woman walking beside him who, as a teen, was notoriously late. “I seem to remember nearly being mowed down on several occasions by a certain tardy dumpling head.”

“Yes it is,” she said with a sigh. “For your information, I am actually a pretty responsible adult and am rarely ever late to work, thank you very much, Doctor Chiba,” she stated, punctuating her retort by sticking out her tongue. 

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” Mamoru chuckled. Noticing a car’s headlights shining behind them, he put his arm around Usagi’s shoulders and pulled her to the side of the road so the car could get by. Usagi felt a blush rise to her cheeks at his closeness. She covertly studied his handsome profile, silhouetted against the soft glow of a distant streetlight, as he watched the car pass.

The truth was, there was another layer to Usagi’s woes that she was unwilling to share with Mamoru at the moment. The week before, while getting drinks with her friend Rei, they had stumbled upon Usagi’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, Daisuke, out with another woman. There had been a scene at the bar involving yelling (Daisuke), tears (Usagi), and hurled stemware (Rei) that resulted in one nasty break up and one lifetime ban from the bar for a certain raven-haired woman. Usagi hadn’t been able to sleep well since then, spending her nights sobbing into her pillow and wondering where things had gone wrong with Daisuke. Now, gazing up at Mamoru, she realized this relative stranger had made her feel more safe and cared for than her ex ever had. The thought did not comfort her. 

As soon as the car passed, Mamoru released his hold on her shoulders, causing her to stumble a little. He held out an arm to catch her, but she quickly steadied herself and they resumed their walk.

“So,” he recalled, “you were late for work. Then?”

“Oh . . . right. So, I was late for work,” she began, regaining her bearings, “and then my only custom client right now came in and didn’t like my design, which I had been working on allllll week. So that was super frustrating. Then, at lunch, I spilled my corn soup all over my skirt before I could actually eat any of it and had to rush home to change. And, since I had been late to work and had to take an extended lunch break despite not actually being able to eat, Osaka-san made me stay late and dust all of the light fixtures. Then I finally got on the train to go home, which is seriously one station away, and halfway there the stupid train stops because of an accident and we have to sit there for like an hour. I mean, it seriously would have only taken me 20 minutes to walk home I just . . . ugh. I just had to be lazy and take the damn train, so I got home super late. Then, as you know, I tried to make curry and cut my stupid finger. So then I had to call 1-1-9 and wait for them to tell me which hospital to go to and of course all the stupid hospitals by me were already closed—and, by the way, why the hell do all the hospitals in Tokyo all close at 4?!” She gave Mamoru a piercing look, as if he were part of a vast hospital conspiracy that had the sole purpose of making her life difficult. He did his best to look sympathetic. “So anyway then I had to go all the way to Shinagawa by myself, bleeding all over the damn place . . . and then do you know what happened?”

“What?”

“The doctor turned out to be this jerky guy who used to make fun of me all the time when I was in middle school. Can you believe that?” 

“I can’t even imagine,” Mamoru grinned, burying his hands in his pockets.

“It’s just ridiculous.” 

“I hope that jerky doctor learned his lesson and made it up to you.”

“Well, he did fix my finger and buy me dinner, so I guess I forgive him.”

“Good.” Mamoru smiled to himself as Usagi navigated them through a complicated intersection and past a tiny but well-manicured neighborhood park where a woman was taking her dog for a nighttime walk. A grid of lighted signs hung on the side of a building, advertising various hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Vending machines stood sentry on the corner, glowing reassuringly. A couple emerged from one of the restaurants and stumbled past them, holding hands and giggling. Usagi and Mamoru soon passed the cluster of businesses and, dodging the other couple, slipped back onto another residential street. 

“I have to be honest,” Mamoru began, thinking about the couple they passed, “I was kind of surprised that you were at the emergency room alone.” 

“Oh . . . well, my priority was getting to the hospital before bleeding to death rather than telling everyone what happened. Which, to be honest, I’m not in any rush to do.”

“No, I mean, I was surprised that you weren’t there with a . . . a boyfriend or husband or . . . something,” he finished lamely.

“Oh.” Usagi’s face fell as Daisuke once again entered her thoughts. “I’m . . . not seeing anyone at the moment.” 

“Huh.”

Usagi snapped her head around to look at him, sending her long hair flying. “What do you mean, ‘huh?’”

“I don’t know. . . . I just figured some Prince Charming swept you off your feet a long time ago.”

“Really?” she asked, incredulous at his optimistic outlook on her love life. He shrugged and grinned. “Nope, no Prince Charming for Usagi,” she responded. “All the men I kiss seem to turn into frogs.” She scrunched up her face as her ex-boyfriends paraded through her thoughts—one failure after another. She shook her head and sighed. “How about you? Is there a Mrs. Chiba?”

“Nah,” he replied a little sadly, his gaze focused on the pavement. “Things just never seem to click with anyone. Guess I just haven’t met ‘the one,’ you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They locked eyes for a brief moment, then continued walking in silence, both lost in thought. 

“Well, here I am,” Usagi said a short while later, pointing to the sandy colored brick building on the corner. Mamoru continued walking with her, following through the gate and up the half-dozen stairs to her to her doorstep. 

“Thank you so much for dinner and for being so nice to me tonight, Mamoru-san. It really meant a lot to me.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, smiling at her. “I’m glad we had a chance to catch up.”

“Me too,” she replied, returning his grin. 

“You have your meds?” 

“Yep!” She held up her purse and jiggled it, producing the unmistakable rattling of pills from within. 

“How does your finger feel?”

She held up the injured appendage between them, considering it for a moment. She stuck out her bottom lip to reply, “Pretty sore, actually.”

Mamoru took her hand in his and looked appraisingly at her bandaged finger. 

“Hmm. Well, at this point, there’s really only one thing I can do to help that.”

“What’s that?”

He looked at her for a moment, then murmured, “A kiss to make it better.” Usagi felt her face flush as he gently pulled her hand toward his lips, giving her finger a tender kiss. They locked eyes; Usagi was sure he could hear her heart pounding. 

“I’ll see you next week, Dumpling Head,” he said softly, releasing her hand to brush a stray tendril of hair from her face and tuck it behind her ear. The intimate gesture sent a jolt through her; Mamoru seemed to come to himself suddenly and backed away from her a step, bashfully sticking his hands in his pockets before turning to descend the stairs and shutting the gate behind him. The sound of the gate closing served as an alarm, waking Usagi from her brief trace. She exhaled, not realizing she’d been holding her breath.

“Good night, Mamoru . . . kun,” she finally responded before he could get too far. He grinned at the more familiar form of his name, walking backward for a few steps, waving in acknowledgement before turning and heading toward the parking lot down the street. She watched as he disappeared into the night, then fished her keys out of her purse with her uninjured hand to unlock the door. 

Though she had no idea how to feel about the night’s events, she realized that tonight, for the first time in a long time, she would fall asleep thinking about a man other than her ex-boyfriend.


	3. Chapter 3

“I cannot _believe_ you didn’t call me last night, Usagi-chan,” Makoto chided her friend as she sat down several containers of food on Usagi’s cluttered kitchen table.

“That’s what I said!” Rei shouted from the living room.

Now freed of her burden, Makoto swept a few stray hairs from her face and glared at her friend through the serving hatch between the two rooms. Usagi sat on the couch beside Rei, clutching a stuffed bunny like a shield and looking appropriately ashamed of herself.

After arriving home the night before, Usagi had managed to clean up the worst of the blood and mess in the kitchen before heading to bed, too exhausted after the day’s events to deal with the inevitable barrage of calls and texts that she would receive after sharing news of her mishap. The next morning, she texted a picture of her bandaged finger to her parents and friends with the simple message “oops!” and hoped they wouldn’t be too upset at her for keeping the news from them overnight.

As for Mamoru, she had resolved to put him from her mind. Doubts and old insecurities had crept in overnight to taint her memories of the evening, convincing her that she had misinterpreted his intentions. He was too smart, too successful, and too handsome to be interested in someone like her. After all, as Daisuke had often reminded her, she was just some shop girl. What would she have to offer someone like him? It was far easier to believe that he was just being nice to make up for making her cry.

“I’m sorry you guys!” Usagi said, attempting to assuage her friends. “But I’m fine, really!”

“It’s all right, Usagi-chan. We were just worried about you,” Ami said reassuringly from her spot on the floor, where she was perusing a medical journal and absentmindedly scratching Usagi’s black cat, Luna, behind the ears.

Makoto huffed in disapproval as she began unpacking the food, placing several of the smaller containers in the nearly empty refrigerator for Usagi to eat later before opening the largest and unceremoniously dumping its contents into Usagi’s largest pot. Rei got up to help, but Makoto waved her away, preferring to work off the day’s frustrations through cooking. They listened as Makoto bemoaned the sorry state of Usagi’s kitchen as she reheated the food, enticed by the increasingly delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. A short while later, Makoto was calling them all into the kitchen to serve themselves dinner.

“Mako-chan, this looks absolutely delectable! Is that paprika I smell?” inquired Ami as she stirred the pot.

“Good nose! It’s leftover goulash from the café. Kazuki found Hungarian paprika at a specialty market a few days ago and couldn’t resist making something with it. Don’t forget to grab some bread, too,” she said, pointing to the loaf on the cutting board. “It’s asiago focaccia. I baked it fresh this morning,” she added, crossing her arms in a self-satisfied manner.

“Mako-chan, you’re too good to me,” Usagi said meekly, grabbing one of her mismatched bowls and ladling goulash into it.

“Well, thank Kazuki for the goulash,” Makoto replied, filling her own bowl and grabbing the cutting board laden with bread before following her friends into the living room as they gathered around the coffee table to eat.

“Thank you, Kazuki-kun!” cheered Usagi as she settled onto a floor cushion and picked up her spoon. Makoto couldn’t help grinning as she watched Usagi take her first bite. Predictably, the blonde woman’s face fell into a series of expressions that most would associate with attaining nirvana.

“Oh my _god_ Mako-chan,” she declared after processing the range of emotions that inevitably accompanied eating Kazuki’s food, “this is so good I might actually cry.”

“I know,” Makoto replied smugly, dipping a piece of bread into her stew.

“Seriously Mako-chan,” Usagi continued thickly, her cheeks stuffed with food, “I think Kazuki-kun might _actually_ be the best chef in the world.”

“You know what that means, right?” Rei interjected with a smirk, “If you guys get divorced, Usagi-chan’s keeping him.” Usagi stuck her goulash-coated tongue out in response, then continued eating.

“So Mako-chan,” Ami asked as she picked up a second piece of bread, “how are things going at the café?”

“Good, but super busy. Ever since that review in the _Mainichi_ we’ve been slammed. We’ve been talking about hiring another full-time employee to help with back-of-house work. Then Kazuki might actually get to take a day off once in a while.”

“That’s wonderful,” Ami responded with a smile.

“Yeah, I really hope it works out. It really just depends on finding the right person to work with us. Kazuki was thinking about approaching some of our culinary school friends, since we would already know them and they would take less time to train.”

“Good luck with that,” Rei remarked with a sour look on her face.

“Still struggling with the new crop of miko, Rei-chan?” Usagi asked, giving her friend an apologetic look.

“Honestly, girls these days are just so flighty and immature. Whenever a boy comes around it’s all giggles and no work gets done. Just this afternoon I caught two of them completely ignoring their cleaning duties to talk and flirt with a college boy. I don’t know how I'm supposed to run the shrine with help like that.”

“Aww, you should cut them some slack,” Makoto responded. “It wasn’t long ago that we were young and silly, too.”

“I still _am_ young and silly,” Usagi remarked as Rei gave Makoto an incredulous look for daring to suggest that she had ever been immature a day in her life.

“Look,” Rei snapped, “running a shrine like Hikawa is a lot of work. I get that they are ‘young and silly,’ but the miko are supposed to take care of cleaning and selling amulets so I can have time to attend to services, rituals, and prayer—not to mention fire meditation. I can’t do any of that stuff if I have to constantly monitor them and chastise their improper behavior.” 

“Maybe you should be focusing on being a mentor or big sister to these girls instead of trying to be their boss all the time,” Makoto offered. “They’re just looking for something fun and interesting to do for a few years before they figure out what they really want to do with their lives. You knew you wanted to be a priestess since you were a little girl. These girls don’t know what they want to do at all! If you cut them some slack, they might respond better and work a little harder.” 

“Seriously,” Usagi said. “I know I do better work for managers I like and respect than ones who yell at me for every little mistake I make.”

“It does seem logical that a change in your perspective on the matter would facilitate better results,” Ami added.

“You really think that would work?” Rei asked with narrowed eyes.

“I think it could,” Makoto remarked. “The girls are assigned duties throughout the day, right? So, if they have completed their duties, maybe allow them to socialize a bit. In fact, you might sell a lot more amulets if you do!”

“And they’d probably complete their duties more quickly and efficiently,” Ami added. 

“Grandpa was always telling me I’d sell more amulets if I were friendlier,” Rei acknowledged. 

“Sounds like it’s worth a shot, Rei-chan,” Usagi offered. Rei narrowed her eyes as she considered her friends’ advice, still skeptical of their logic. In lieu of continuing the conversation, she decided to take her frustrations out on a piece of bread instead by ripping it apart and moodily chewing on the massacred pieces.

“So, Usagi-chan,” Ami asked, “did you hear back from Minako-chan today?” 

“No, I don’t think her cruise ship is supposed to dock in Vietnam for a few more days. I haven’t heard anything from her since she sent us her latest email about her fling with the First Officer.” 

“I really wish she’d stop sending me those,” Rei said. “If I have to read about one more sexcapade, she’s getting blocked.”

“To be honest,” Ami admitted, “I set up a filter on my inbox a few months ago that blocks most of her more . . . graphic emails.”

“You can do that?” Rei asked, amazed.

“It’s quite simple, really,” Ami explained. “I wrote a program that analyzed the frequency of keywords in the emails I flagged, then wrote a script for my inbox that filters the most explicit ones. I believe filtering the phrase ‘able seaman’ got rid of the bulk of them. I can set up something similar for you if you’d like, Rei-chan.”

“Yes, please—the sooner the better. You two should get in on this,” she added, pointing to Usagi and Makoto with a scrap of bread.

“Nah,” Makoto smirked. “Kazuki and I get a kick out of them. We like to do dramatic readings of them to each other to unwind after work.” 

“Yeah I kinda like ‘em, actually,” Usagi added. “At least I know she’s having fun.”

“Suit yourselves,” Rei replied with a shrug.

“Man,” Makoto pouted, “I’m so jealous that she gets to go on all those cruises. I hope one of these days Kazuki and I can take a proper honeymoon and go on a cruise like that.”

“I’m sure she could get you a good deal. She’s been working for that cruise company for almost a year now and I don’t think she’s planning on stopping any time soon,” Usagi replied.

“Of course she isn’t,” Rei remarked, “Not when she can be the star of the show night after night. I’m sure she’s absolutely soaking up all the attention.”

“Yes, and good for her,” Ami jumped in. “I think it’s wonderful that Minako-chan found a job where she can utilize her talents and see the world.”

“Oh she’s utilizing her ‘talents’ alright,” Rei added under her breath. Makoto snickered as Usagi grabbed another piece of bread off the cutting board. Her eyes followed Usagi’s hand, the very large bandage around her finger reminding her why they had all come to dinner at Usagi’s in the first place.

“OK, Usagi-chan, time for you to tell us exactly what the hell happened last night,” Makoto declared.

“Yeah woman, you’d better spill. You’ve been avoiding talking about it since I got here,” Rei agreed.

“You have been rather evasive about what happened, Usagi-chan,” Ami added. Usagi sighed, wondering if she’d be able to continue to avoid telling them about her evening with Mamoru. It had admittedly been a very nice evening, but considering she had already come to the conclusion that it had been nothing more than a friendly dinner, the last thing she wanted was to have her friends make a big deal about it.

“Well, I was trying to make curry, and somehow the knife slipped while I was cutting up the onion and cut my finger.” Makoto sighed and shook her head as she thought about the numerous times she had shown Usagi the proper (and safe) way to cut an onion. “So then I wound up at Shinagawa Metropolitan Hospital and had to get six stitches.”

Makoto shuddered. “Six stitches? That’s a lot for one finger! You must have cut it pretty deep.” Usagi held up her injured finger and stuck out her bottom lip, thankful for her friend’s sympathy. “I remember one time in culinary school when another student cut his thumb so bad he nearly took the whole thing off. Blood everywhere, and it ruined this soufflé we’d been working on since—”

“Yes, it is a lot of stitches for one finger,” Ami interjected as Usagi blanched. “And, like I told you earlier, I would be happy to help you change your bandages tomorrow and inspect the laceration. But Shinagawa Metropolitan is a very highly regarded hospital. I’m confident the doctors there took good care of you.”

“Yeah . . . yeah, they did . . .” Usagi admitted as a blush reddened her cheeks.

“A few of my mother’s colleagues have transferred there over the years. . . .” Ami continued. “Just out of curiosity, what was your doctor’s name?”

Usagi fidgeted a moment before replying. “Doctor Chiba.”

“Hmmm. I think I know a Doctor Chiba Natsumi. Was she your doctor?”

“No . . .” Usagi continued to fidget for a moment longer before capitulating. “My doctor was Chiba Mamoru.”

“Chiba Mamoru . . .” Ami sat back on her cushion, pondering the familiar name.

“Wait,” Makoto interrupted. “I know that name. Why do I know that name, Usagi-chan?”

“Um . . . remember that guy back in middle school who I always seemed to run in to who would make fun of my hair?”

“You mean that hot upper-classman?” Makoto marveled.

“The one who went to ultra-elite Moto Azabu High?” Ami asked.

“Yeah . . .”

“ _He_ was your doctor?” Makoto demanded.

“Yeah . . .” Makoto attempted to fight back a smirk as she met Ami’s wide-eyed gaze.

“Hold on,” Rei interjected. “ _Who_ is this guy?”

“This super hot guy who used to trade barbs with Usagi-chan back in the day. This was before we met you, Rei-chan,” Makoto supplied.

“Chiba-san and Usagi-chan had a habit of antagonizing each other and bickered often—though to be honest it was often rather entertaining and benign,” Ami added as Usagi gave her a wounded look.

“OK, OK, so what happened? Was everything OK? Did you guys fight?” Makoto demanded.

“No . . . well, we did a little at first. But then . . .” Usagi trailed off, still unsure how to process the previous night’s events.

“But then?” Rei echoed as Makoto sat forward on her cushion.

Usagi paused for a moment before the dam burst and everything came spilling out. “So, you guys know how I’ve been having a hard time lately because of Daisuke?”

“Fucking Daisuke,” Rei muttered under her breath.

“Right, so anyway,” Usagi continued, “I was so tired and worn out from Daisuke and I was having the most awful day and I was pissed at myself and my finger hurt and when he made some stupid crack about me being in the ER, I completely lost it and bawled right in front of him. It was possibly one of the most mortifying moments of my life.”

“Oh Usagi-chan, it’s totally normal to cry at the hospital! Don’t be embarrassed!” Ami said, reassuringly rubbing Usagi’s arm.

“This Chiba guy didn’t give you a hard time about it, did he?” Rei asked somewhat menacingly.

“No, no, it’s fine, really. He felt so guilty about making me cry that he was really sweet the rest of the evening. He even bought me dinner after I told him mine was ruined.”

“He bought you dinner?” Makoto replied, a smirk now clearly visible.

“I know it probably sounds nuts to you—the two of us getting dinner together,” Usagi replied. “But it was really nice catching up with him.”

“Oh my god, I knew it. I _so_ knew it!” Makoto declared, sitting back on her cushion.

“Knew what? What do you mean?” Usagi asked, confused.

“That he _totally_ had a crush on you back in middle school!” Makoto explained. “I mean jeez, it was totally obvious.”

“What? No way! He couldn’t stand me in middle school! He was always picking on me and calling me Dumpling Head just to annoy me. Tell her, Ami-chan.”

“I’m sorry Usagi-chan,” Ami replied, “but I have to agree with Makoto-chan’s assessment.”

“No way! Just . . . no. No way. It is absolutely not possible.”

“Why not, Usagi-chan?” Ami asked.

Usagi sputtered for a moment, trying to formulate a cogent argument. “I’m sorry, did you guys not witness all the times he made fun of me? He was a complete snob.”

“I remember it a little differently, Usagi-chan,” Makoto retorted as Ami nodded. “I seem to recall you initiating your spats as much as he did. In fact, the first time I ever saw him make fun of you was after you whacked him in the face with a pigtail.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was standing there,” Usagi responded, turning red.

“Trust us, Usagi-chan. The only person he ever talked to in that place was you. If you weren't there, he’d just be sitting alone doing his homework,” Makoto added.

“I don't know you guys . . .” Usagi said, looking uncomfortable.

“Well, that was all a long time ago, anyway,” Ami said, taking pity on Usagi. “It’s completely inconsequential whether he liked you a decade ago. It’s not like he came on to you last night or anything, right? Besides, that would have been terribly unprofessional of him.”

Usagi chuckled uncomfortably as Ami’s words struck home. “Right, there’s no way he would have come on to me. That would have been so unprofessional. Hey, does anybody want a beer or something? I think I need a drink.”

Ami tugged at her sleeve as she began to rise. “Usagi-chan, you can’t drink any alcohol with your medication.”

“Oh, right . . .” she said, sinking back down onto her cushion, looking slightly crestfallen.

“That’s OK! I brought cookies!” Makoto declared, bounding into the kitchen to retrieve another container. “I whipped up a batch of your favorites.”

“Chocolate-Chocolate Pretzel Supremes?!” Usagi exclaimed, instantly perking up as Makoto set down the open container on the middle of the table. Makoto smiled as Usagi grabbed a half dozen cookies and stuffed the first in her mouth.

“So, Usagi-chan,” Rei began, delicately plucking an oversized cookie from the plastic container. “Did you tell that asshole Daisuke about your accident?”

“No,” Usagi drawled, her mouth half full. “I injured my finger, not my head. Plus, you spent an hour deleting all traces of him from my phone last week, remember?”

“Vaguely,” she said, nibbling her cookie. “But after what happened last week, I hope we never have to see or hear about Fucking Daisuke ever again.”

“Seriously,” Makoto agreed.

“I know, I know,” Usagi acknowledged. “It’s just . . . it’s not that easy to cut him out of my life. You guys know I’ve tried breaking things off before. Sooner or later he’s going to come crawling back again. And he can just be so charming when he wants to be that it makes me forget about all of the bad things he’s said and done. Remember last time we broke up and he had bouquets delivered to OSA-P every day and wrote me all those love letters until I took him back? Plus, things were really good once.”

“Yes, things were good once. Like, once. Literally one time,” Rei snapped back.

“Ha-ha,” Usagi responded dryly. “Yes, Rei-chan, I get it. You hate him.”

“I hate him, Mako-chan hates him, Minako-chan hates him, . . . I mean, even Ami-chan hates him, and she doesn’t hate anybody!”

Suddenly put on the spot, Ami turned an impressive shade of red and tried her best to avoid eye contact with everyone in the room, including the cat. Usagi sighed before stuffing another cookie in her mouth.

“Look, Usagi-chan,” Makoto said, “we just love you and want you to be happy, that’s all. And we haven’t seen that in a long time—not since Daisuke—“

“ _Fucking_ Daisuke,” Rei corrected.

“Sorry, Rei—not since _Fucking_ Daisuke came into your life. You deserve so, so much more than that.”

“It’s true, Usagi-chan,” Ami offered. “You deserve better. You deserve to be with someone who makes you happy and loves and supports you.”

“Yeah,” Rei added, “no more assholes and no more losers. I know you have a thing for broken men who you think you can save, but it always ends up blowing up in your face.”

“Ugh,” Usagi said, dropping her head on the table with a muffled thud. “Can we talk about something else please? This is just too depressing.”

“Sure thing, Usagi-chan,” Makoto reassured her, extracting a lock of long blonde hair from the cookies. “Just remember, whatever happens, we’re there for you.”

* * *

After the cookies were eaten, after the house was put back in order, and after their friend was pleasantly medicated and tucked into bed, three women left a certain sandy-colored apartment building and began their journeys home.

Makoto waited until they were out of earshot from Usagi’s apartment before speaking. “Oh man, you guys. I can’t _wait_ to tell Minako-chan about this whole Chiba development!”

“Now Mako-chan,” Ami warned, “let’s not get too carried away. As far as we know they had one friendly dinner and that was it.”

“Oh come on Ami! Don’t spoil this for me! This has been 10 years in the making!”

“Do you guys really think he liked her that much?” Rei asked.

Makoto and Ami glanced at each other before simultaneously answering, “Yes.”

“I actually always thought she knew,” Makoto remarked.

“Well, it does make sense,” Ami offered. “We saw the difference in him when she wasn’t around and she didn’t.”

“I kinda suspected she liked him, too,” Makoto added.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if that were the case.”

“Oh come on, you guys know what Usagi-chan’s like around guys she likes,” Rei said. “She isn’t shy and I’ve certainly never seen her bicker with a guy she had a crush on.”

“No, but you have to remember that she was fourteen—and he wasn’t much older,” Makoto reasoned. “She probably didn’t really know how to process what she was feeling, and he obviously had no game. Neither of them knew how to act around each other aside from teasing and bickering.”

“So then what happened?”

“Once we graduated from middle school he stopped coming to the arcade,” Ami responded.

“Why?”

“I dunno, I guess he graduated.” Makoto supplied. “Moved away. Found somewhere quieter to study. Who knows?”

“At any rate,” Ami concluded, “I don’t think it would be fair to Usagi-chan to mention this to Minako-chan for now. We just don’t know enough about the situation. For all we know he could be married!”

“Or lost his looks,” Rei reasoned. “Or be an asshole.”

“Alright, alright.” Makoto answered as they reached the intersection that would divide them for the rest of the evening. “Guess I’ll see you guys around!”

The three friends bid each other good night before heading home. They had no way of knowing that each was already formulating a plan to investigate the mysterious Dr. Chiba—Rei by meditating in front of her fire, Ami by asking her mother’s colleagues about his reputation and status, and Makoto by doing some good old-fashioned Internet sleuthing—to make sure that this time, Usagi’s heart might just go to someone worthy of her affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, totally forgot to post this chapter! Well, you're getting a two-for-one special today! Merry Christmas???


	4. Chapter 4

Usagi studied the slip of paper clutched in her hand, trying to ease her nerves. The number written on the paper, _D294,_ provided little relief; it hadn’t changed since the last time she had looked at it, just as it hadn’t changed the 20 times she’d looked before that. For a woman not known for her patience, sitting in a hospital waiting room was already a challenge. Sitting in a hospital waiting room to see a man who always left her feeling flummoxed in some way . . . well, that was an entirely new level of torture for Usagi.

She fiddled with the carved turquoise bauble at the end of her necklace as a boy on crutches hobbled by with his mother. It had taken Usagi a month to get the turquoise birds just right, but Osaka-san encouraged her to take her time and perfect and wear her own designs as much as possible as a way to drum up business. Although she did get a handful of new customers from being her own walking billboard, she was actually quite happy for an excuse to create high-quality pieces for herself in her spare time and wore them as much as possible. There was something calming about her pieces—as if they were imbued with the love and care she poured into them during their creation.

One of the office doors lining the waiting room opened, revealing an elderly man with a walker. He slowly shuffled past Usagi, giving her a wink. Usagi gave him a warm smile before looking around at the increasingly empty waiting room. There were only a handful of people left waiting for the final appointments of the day, which were inevitably delayed. Usagi thanked her lucky stars that Osaka-san had consented to giving her a rare half-day.

A soft tone went off, causing Usagi to snap her head up and stare at the take-a-number display. _A382; B533; C148; D294; E171_ When she realized that her number was being paged, she tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. It didn’t work. Usagi quickly stood, adjusting her skirt and giving her elegant bun a smoothing stroke before gathering her things and heading toward the office door labeled “D.” Her knock was answered with a prompt, “Come in!”

Usagi took a breath and opened the door, poking her head into the small office. Mamoru was seated at a desk, finishing some paperwork. He glanced at the doorway, his eyes briefly going wide at the sight of her before a wide smile spread across his face.

“Please come in,” he said, motioning her inside and taking off his glasses.

“Hi, Mamoru-kun,” she greeted as she entered. He couldn’t help but watch her as she sat down. She had been so adorable in her pink bunny pajamas that it hadn’t really dawned on him how many years had truly passed since middle school. Now, faced with an undeniably mature Usagi—an Usagi who wore heels and pink lipstick; an Usagi whose dress tastefully accentuated every previously concealed curve—he was finding it difficult to think of anything else.

“You look wonderful,” he managed to tell her after she got settled.

“Thank you,” she replied with a blush. “I came straight from work so I look a little more polished than the last time you saw me.” They grinned at each other, both remembering their previous encounter.

“Has today been any better for you today than last time?”

“So far! I got to work on time, haven’t spilled anything on myself, and managed to not have any major accidents.”

Mamoru chuckled, adding, “Too bad you still have to see that jerky doctor.”

“Oh, he’s not _that_ bad. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“You have my word,” he replied with a smirk. “Now,” he continued, rolling his chair closer to hers, “let’s take a look at your finger.”

She placed her hand into his, feeling comforted by their familiar warmth as he peeled off the bandages. He studied the healing wound, asking her various questions about its condition over the past week, before releasing her hand and rolling back toward his desk to grab a pair of latex gloves.

“Your finger has healed beautifully,” he informed her, snapping the gloves on, “so all of the stitches can come out today.”

“Great!”

“You’re lucky,” he added, placing tools on a tray. “Not everyone heals that quickly.”

“Really?” she asked as he once again moved closer to her.

“Yep, although it’s not unusual for my patients,” he explained, swabbing her finger with disinfectant. “The nurses say I have the golden touch,” he continued with false smugness.

“Oh is that so?” Usagi smirked as Mamoru gave her a conspiratorial wink.

“Now,” Mamoru continued, regaining his professional demeanor, “I’m going to clip each suture and then remove them. It might feel a little odd, but it shouldn’t hurt.”

Usagi watched as Mamoru went about his work. As he leaned over her hand, she couldn’t help but drink in his intoxicatingly earthy scent. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be transported to a forest path lined with wild roses. She breathed in deeply, feeling calm and content, imagining herself walking among the wildwood flora . . .

“Usagi-chan?” Mamoru’s voice startled her out of her reverie. She realized too late that he had been talking to her as her mind had been wandering a thousand miles away.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I said, ‘you’re all done.’”

“Oh!” She held up her newly healed finger, now free of stitches. He chuckled as he began cleaning up.

“Heading back to work now?” he asked as she began gathering her things.

“No, thank goodness. Osaka-san gave me the rest of the day off."

Mamoru looked at her thoughtfully as she stood. “Listen, Usagi-chan . . .”

“Yes?”

“I had a really nice time with you the other night.”

“So did I.” Her genuine smile gave him heart. “It was nice catching up.”

“Would you . . . I dunno . . . maybe want to grab coffee or something? There’s a café down the street . . . if you’re interested, I mean . . .”

“Really? You don’t have any more patients?”

“Nope, you were the last of the day. I just have to finish cleaning up and file my paperwork, then I’m free for the evening.”

Usagi considered his proposal. “I accept, but on one condition.”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What’s that?”

“I’m paying.”

* * *

“One mocha extra whip for you,” Mamoru said, placing Usagi’s order down in front of her, “and one Colombian pour-over for me.” He set his cup down, taking his seat at the intimate bistro table they managed to snag next to the café’s large front window.

“Thank you!” She gingerly touched the outside of her cup, testing the temperature. She picked it up and took a small sip. “Good mocha,” she concluded, nestling the hot cup between her hands.

Mamoru grinned at her, then rubbed the tip of his nose a few times. She stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was doing. She quickly rubbed her nose, ridding it of excess whipped cream.

“Well, I suppose it was inevitable,” she sighed. “At least it was on my face, not my dress!”

“Do you always get that dressed up for work?” he asked, his eyes sweeping over her tasteful ensemble once more.

“Yeah, Osaka-san likes for us to look,” she paused, briefly adopting her employer’s refined mannerisms, “‘polished and professional.’ She says it helps our customers feel comfortable. What she means is that it helps our customers feel comfortable giving us a lot of money. I’m pretty sure my first year’s worth of paychecks went straight into upgrading my wardrobe.” She took another sip of her mocha, careful to keep her nose clean this time.

“Is that necklace another one of your pieces? I noticed it while I was taking out your sutures.”

She looked down briefly, fingering the carved birds. “Yep. You wanna see?” she asked, pulling the necklace toward him. He took the end of the necklace in his hands, studying the carved turquoise. The pair of doves nestled lovingly in his grasp, looking as if they were going to fly off together at any moment.

“'I saw the angel . . .’” he said, looking up at her.

“What?” she asked, startled.

“Isn’t that what Michelangelo said?” he asked, handing the birds back to her. “‘I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.’”

“Oh I . . . I’ve never heard that before.” She pondered the meaning for a moment, looking at her work. “I really like that.”

Mamoru smiled, picking up his cup for another drink. Usagi mirrored his actions, taking a deep drink of rich mocha. She sighed, setting the cup back down.

“You know, I really love this song,” she said, closing her eyes and letting the music wash over her.

Mamoru took a moment to listen to the soft music, trying to discern a melody.

“Is this a Rachmaninoff piano concerto?” he asked, causing her eyes to flicker open.

“Yep!” she nodded. “It’s Rach 3. One of my favorites.”

“I never would have pegged you for a classical music lover,” he confessed.

“One of my friends got me into it a few years ago. I like to have classical music on in the background when I’m working. Especially my friend’s music—she’s an amazing violinist. Whenever I hear Michiru-san I just . . . I don’t know, it’s like being swept up in a dream sometimes.”

“Kaioh Michiru?”

“Yeah! Why, do you know her, too?”

“I wouldn’t say she’s a close friend, but we’re both board members of the Children’s Home and Benefit Foundation, so I’ve gotten to know her over the past few years in a somewhat professional capacity.”

“That’s awesome!” Usagi declared with a bright smile. “I love her stuff. I only had to hear her once and I was hooked. I still listen to her all the time.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have several of her albums myself.”

“So do you only listen to classical, or do you like other kinds of music, too?” she asked, picking up her mug.

“Oh, I listen to a fair amount of jazz, classic rock, and enka as well.”

“Enka?”

“Yes, enka,” he confirmed, taking another sip of coffee. “Is there something wrong with that?”

“No, no, nothing _wrong_ , it’s just that the only people I know who listen to enka are . . . y’know . . . old.”

Mamoru swirled the remaining coffee in his cup for a moment before responding. “Well, I suppose that’s sort of why I listen to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was raised by an ‘old’ woman—my great-aunt. She loved enka and was always playing her old records, neighbors be damned,” he recalled, smiling into his cup. “I suppose I got used to having it on in the background over the years. After she passed away and I was living on my own, I just kept listening to them. It always helped me feel less . . . I don’t know, alone, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Mamoru-kun. When did she pass?”

“A long time ago. I was 14.”

“You were living on your own in high school? What about your parents?”

“My parents . . .” he began haltingly, looking down at his coffee cup. He considered for a moment, wondering how to continue, or if he even could. It had been many years since he’d talked about his family with anyone, and even longer since he’d gone into any depth. He wasn’t ashamed of his situation, but he did value his privacy. But as he looked at Usagi, he could feel his guard going down. There was something about her that made him want to open up in a way that he hadn’t in a long time.

“My parents died in a car accident when I was six. That’s why I went to live with Aunt Chieko—she was the only family I had left. It was actually more difficult to deal with her passing. I don’t even remember my parents, to be honest, but Aunt Chieko . . . she raised me—shaped me into the person I am today. After Aunt Chieko died, I kept as busy as I could at school and if I ever got too lonely, I’d go to the arcade.” He looked up at Usagi, his gaze piercing deep into her soul. “It was hard to feel too alone there.”

Though he’d tried kept his tone light, Usagi could feel the sadness in his words. She reached across the table, placing her hands on the hand he was resting on the tabletop.

“Oh Mamoru-kun, I’m so sorry. I never knew!”

Releasing his coffee cup, he placed his free hand on hers.

“Thank you, Usagi-chan,” he said sincerely with a lopsided smile, causing her heart to somersault. He gave her hands a brief squeeze before breaking the connection. “But don’t feel bad that you didn’t know. It wasn’t something I shared with many people. I honestly can’t even remember the last time I talked about Aunt Chieko.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’d love to hear more,” she replied, giving him a genuine smile.

Mamoru closed his eyes, picturing his great aunt as she most often was in life: sporting an impeccable kimono, perfectly coiffed hair, and a stern expression. He smiled at the image.

“Aunt Chieko was a force,” he began. “She commanded authority and respect, and didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her. She was the kind of person who had many associates but few friends. But she was a devoted philanthropist and was involved in dozens of charities—always arranging fundraisers or hosting lavish dinner parties at our house.

“I was honestly pretty scared when I first moved in with her. I was only a kid and it was just the two of us in this huge old house. But she took me in and treated me as if I were her own son—putting me in the best schools, making sure I was healthy and happy, and supporting me when I needed it.”

“She sounds wonderful, Mamoru-kun.”

“She was. I was really lucky to have her.”

“I’m sure she felt lucky to have you, too.”

Mamoru closed his eyes, allowing himself to fully process the meaning of Usagi’s words. After a few moments, his eyes found hers once again.

“Thank you, Usagi-chan. That means a lot.”

She blushed in response, which pleased Mamoru more than he cared to admit.

“What about your family?”

“My family?” she asked, brightening. “Oh gosh, well, my dad’s a photojournalist for the _Kanto Daily Press_ and my mom’s a housewife, although these days she travels as much as she can and is involved in all sorts of clubs and stuff. My mom is pretty strict and my dad can be a little overprotective, but they are always there for me no matter how badly I screw up. And believe me, I screwed up _a lot_ growing up.”

Mamoru hid his smirk by finishing off the last of his coffee.

“My little brother Shingo,” she continued, “goes to Nagasaki University . . . he’s studying civil engineering. We used to fight all the time when we both lived at home, but now that he’s in Nagasaki we actually get along really well. I’m super proud of him for being such a good student and going after what he wants.”

“Good for him. Do you ever get down there to visit him?”

“Sometimes! My parents visit him all the time—especially my mom. But I go with them when I can get a few days off.”

“That sounds nice. That area is really beautiful.”

“Yes! It’s totally gorgeous and the hot springs action is amazing down there.”

“Hey, would you mind if I got a refill really quick?” Mamoru asked, picking up his empty cup.

“Not at all!”

“Can I get you anything?”

“Nah, I’m still nursing my mocha,” she replied, lifting her oversized mug. “Thanks, though!”

As Mamoru left to join the ordering line, Usagi pulled out her phone to check for missed texts. She was still reading the first message when she noticed Mamoru’s chair become occupied once again.

“That was fast . . .” she began, halting once she realized that the person now sitting across from her was not Mamoru. She felt her face grow pale as she stared instead at the face of Daisuke’s best friend, Ryuta.

“Ryuta-kun? What are you doing here?” she asked, furtively looking toward the counter to see if Mamoru had noticed the interloper, feeling relieved when she realized that he hadn’t.

“What am _I_ doing here? Oh please, Usagi-chan. You know very well that I live up the street.”

“Oh, right . . .” she said, her stomach dropping.

“You know, I underestimated you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you were just another sweet, if somewhat dim, piece of arm candy. But coming here with some random guy, banking on me walking by and seeing you sitting in the window, knowing that I would tell Daisuke? I never would have thought you’d come up with a ploy like that to make him jealous.”

“Now hold on, Ryuta-kun. That’s not what’s happening here, OK? I’m just catching up with an old friend. And please, _please_ don’t tell Daisuke about this.”

“Catching up with an old friend? Sure didn’t look that way to me. Anyway, I already told him. Texted him the minute I saw you. So your little plan worked.” He smirked as he vacated the chair. “See you around, Usagi-chan.”

Usagi sat frozen in place until the tinkling of the bell over the door told her that Ryuta had left. She put her face in her hands and groaned, thinking about Daisuke. As the over-indulged eldest son of a wealthy family, Daisuke was used to getting what he wanted. And once he had his mind set on something, it was hard to dissuade him.

His infidelities had plagued their relationship, causing their many separations. Though he belittled her for the insecurities caused by his roaming eye, he would turn jealous and possessive if any other man paid her any attention. She had fervently hoped that, after the incident at the bar with Rei, she was done with Daisuke for good. Or, rather, that Daisuke was done with _her_ for good.

No, the last thing she wanted was him back in her life or in Mamoru’s . . . Mamoru, who was so genuine and smart and successful and generous . . . Mamoru, who was so entirely unlike any man who she’d ever been with before . . . so entirely better than her . . .

“Is everything alright?”

Usagi’s head whipped up to see Mamoru standing beside their table, coffee in hand, his eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah,” she said, doing her best to mask her anxiety as he sat down, though she knew she was failing. “Everything’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, leaning his head toward her. “Did something happen?”

Undoubtedly, Ryuta had left her shaken. Daisuke had left her self-confidence in tatters, and thinking about him forced her lingering self-doubts to the forefront of her mind.

She looked into Mamoru’s deep blue eyes, dark with worry. She wanted to lose herself in them, but she held herself back. Here was a man who deserved a happy ending—a man who deserved someone as accomplished and refined as he was. How could she—a silly, clumsy woman still trying to piece her life back together from her previous relationship—possibly be what he needed?

“No, no . . . it’s nothing. Listen, Mamoru-kun, I’m really sorry, but I just remembered that I told my friend I’d help her with something tonight,” she lied, gathering her things and trying her best not to look at him, knowing that she was on the verge of tears.

“Oh . . . I see . . .” Mamoru replied, unconvinced. “Look, Usagi-chan, I’d really like it if I could see you again. Would it be alright if I called you sometime?”

“I’m sorry, Mamoru-kun, I’m not sure if that’s such a good idea,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

“Usagi-chan . . .” Mamoru called as she got up from her chair, but she turned a deaf ear. He was confused by the turn of events, and growing more frustrated by the second. What could have changed everything in the time it took him to get a cup of coffee?

“Wait, _Usagi_ . . .” Mamoru got up as she began heading to the door, his only thought to stop her before she walked out of his life. Something in her had always charmed and resonated with him—now more than ever before. He didn’t want to lose her again, not if he could help it.

He managed to catch her shoulder in his hand and halt her progress as she reached the café’s entryway. Though she turned her body toward him, her gaze remained downcast.

“Look. Something obviously happened back there, even though I don’t have a clue what. Please take this,” he said, pulling one of his business cards out of his wallet and offering it to her. “If you have a change of heart, give me a call, OK?”

She started to reach toward the card, only to have Daisuke’s words fill her ears. _You’re just a stupid shop girl with a pretty face. . . ._

“I’m sorry . . .” she said, tears now falling as her heart crumbled. She backed up a step, leaving Mamoru holding his card. Then, with a tinkling of the door’s bell, she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Antigone2 for her feedback and support. 
> 
> Next time: A night out with Minako, Mamoru gets a little drunk, and Usagi gets a surprise visitor.


	5. Chapter 5

The young blonde woman puckered, adding another layer of cherry-red lipstick before leaning back from her friend’s mirror to admire herself. Her eyes sported the perfect smoky shadow, honed after years of practice; her hair had been teased and sprayed into a glamorous, slightly rebellious faux-hawk of sorts; her perfect body squeezed into a show-stopping sequined pencil skirt and crop top combo.

Damn, she looked good.

“Are you ready?” Usagi’s voice called from the other side of the door. “We’re supposed to meet the girls in 10 minutes!”

“Be out in a second!” Fluffing the cleavage tucked into her teeny-tiny top, she winked at herself. “Watch out, Tokyo. Minako’s back in town.”

* * *

 “Seriously? Shots?” Rei disdainfully eyed the platter bearing five shot glasses brimming with an unnaturally purple liquid that the cocktail waitress placed on their table.

“Yes, seriously. This is our first night out together in _for-ev-er_ and I’m not going to let you be all Rei-chan about it, Rei-chan,” Minako retorted, grabbing a shot.

“Drink up, lady,” Makoto said, handing Rei a shot as Usagi and Ami grabbed their own.

“At least tell me what it is we’re drinking,” Rei asked, not bothering to disguise the disgust on her face.

“Purple nurples. OK, everybody ready?” Minako beamed as she regarded each of the four women facing her. Ami, her short hair done up in 50’s-movie-star curls, stared at her glass with determination. Usagi, looking luminous in a blush-pink cocktail dress, returned Minako’s smile with glee. Rei, elegant and refined as always in a black jumpsuit and stilettos, stared suspiciously at the purple shot in her hand. Makoto, happy to take advantage of the girls’ night out by wearing her hair down in luscious waves, gave Minako a wink.

“To us,” she said, raising her glass.

“To us,” her four friends echoed, raising their glasses before downing the shots. After a few shudders and licked lips, five empty shot glasses were returned to the platter on the table in front of them.

“It’s _so good_ to have you back, Minako-chan!” Usagi exclaimed, nearly knocking her friend over in a side hug. Beaming, Minako returned the hug with enthusiasm.

“Yeah, life isn’t quite as exciting without you around,” Makoto added, reaching over to pat Minako’s knee. She leaned back again as the waitress returned, replacing the platter of empty shot glasses with four cocktails of varying hues and one glass of red wine.

Minako sighed as Rei reached for the wine.

“Rei-chan, only you would order wine at the hottest cocktail bar in town,” Minako remarked. “Like, the mixologists here are the best in Tokyo!”

“Whatever. I know what I like,” she responded, sipping her merlot.

“That reminds me,” Makoto said, “thanks for getting us in here. Kazuki and I have been trying to come here for _months_ but it’s impossible!”

“I was meaning to ask you,” Ami said, “how did you manage to get us in here? I was reading about this place night. It’s incredibly exclusive.”

“Isn’t this awesome?” Minako giggled, eyeing the crowd from their C-shaped sofa. “You can’t swing a barrel of fish without hitting a D-list celebrity of some kind!”

“OK but for real, how’d you pull it off?” Usagi asked before lowering her voice. “You didn’t sleep with the bouncer, did you?”

“Psh, puh-lease like I’d still do that,” Minako replied, rolling her eyes. “I just had my people make a call,” she continued with an air of mystery.

“Your people?” Rei scoffed. “You still have people? Didn’t your album come out a couple of years ago?”

“Twenty-three months ago and yes I still have people! And I’ll have you know that I’ve been working on new material. Despite what you may think, those cruises aren’t all just fun and games. I’ve been testing out some new songs on my audiences—doing a bit of market research, if you will.”

“That’s quite a prudent business move, Minako-chan,” Ami remarked, taking a sip of her drink.

"Mark my words, ladies. My next album’s gonna top the charts,” she replied with a trademark wink.

The five friends wasted no time catching up. One round of drinks later, they knew everything about the new employee at Makoto’s bakery (“She can do things with a pastry bag I’ve never seen before!”), got the progress report on Rei’s miko situation (“I _guess_ things are improving”), heard all the gruesome details of Ami’s latest surgical practicum (“It was really quite fascinating once I was able to get the excess peritoneal fluid off my glasses!”), and learned more than they ever wanted to about Minako’s hot-and-heavy nights with the First Officer (“He was pretty pissed when I got marshmallow fluff all over his hat, but it was worth it”).

Usagi was contentedly sipping her second cocktail, listening to Makoto and Minako chat, when Rei brought reality crashing around her again.

“So, Usagi-chan,” she began, getting her blonde friend’s attention, “heard anything from Fucking Daisuke lately?”

Usagi sighed, feeling the pressure of four pairs of eyes upon her.

“Sort of?” she confessed.

“Sort of?” Rei echoed.

“Kind of? Maybe a little?” Usagi continued.

“He’s been sending her gifts again,” Makoto supplied as Usagi set down her drink.

“Oh he has, has he?” Rei fumed.

“He started after her run-in with Ryuta-san,” Makoto clarified.

“Ugh,” Minako interjected, “I hate that spiky-haired bastard. Like, anytime he was around, you could feel him undressing you with his eyes. But like, in a bad way.”

“But that was over a month ago!” Rei continued, ignoring Minako. “When did the gifts start?”

“A week or two after that. But I send back what I can.”

“Whaaaat?!” Minako shouted. “No way, I say keep the gifts! You deserve it.”

“I really can’t do that. There’s no way I’m going to encourage him.”

“I’m with Usagi-chan on this,” Ami said. “The more she rejects him, the better.”

“It hasn’t deterred him in the past,” Rei pointed out.

“First the gifts,” Minako remarked, “then he comes knocking, and then . . .”

The four women once again turned to look at Usagi. She knew the pattern better than anyone. Daisuke had it down to a science. First, he would send gifts to soften her up and wear her down. Then he would drop by her job or her place to sweet talk her until she gave in to his charms once again. The man was a smooth operator—she’d give him that.

“Look, it’s not going to happen, OK? Not this time. I’m done with him.”

“Just . . . if he darkens your doorstep, don’t let him in, OK?” Makoto requested. “For me. For us.” 

“Seriously,” Minako added, wrapping her arms around Usagi. “I love you to death, lady, and I’ll stand by your side forever, but I’m tired of Sad Usagi. You deserve better. You deserve to be happy.”

“It’s true, Usagi-chan,” Ami said, placing a comforting hand on Usagi’s knee. “We all love you so much—and it’s been harder than you can imagine to watch Daisuke—"

“ _Fucking_ Daisuke,” Rei interjected.

Ami sighed before continuing. “Fine. _Fucking_ Daisuke.” Makoto and Minako laughed as Rei nodded approvingly. “As I was saying, it’s been really hard for us to see you struggle so much with that . . . fucking Daisuke. You just aren’t yourself when he’s around. You don’t smile or laugh. . . it’s like you’re an entirely different person.”

“I never can understand why you keep going back to him,” Minako said.

“It’s hard to explain,” Usagi acknowledged. “It’s like . . . I tell myself I’m not going to do it, I won’t go back, but then I look in his eyes and I just can’t think straight anymore.”

“Tell you what,” Makoto said, “if he comes around again, you just give me and Rei-chan a call. I guarantee you he’ll never bother you again.”

“Agreed,” Rei replied, giving Makoto a fist bump. Usagi smiled at her friends’ bravado. Though she knew she would never take them up on their offer, she appreciated it nonetheless.

Taking pity on Usagi, Ami changed the subject, asking Minako about her upcoming cruise. Giving Ami a grateful smile, Usagi picked up her drink and sank back into her seat, listening to Minako’s upbeat chatter.

Minako, Ami, and Rei were busy debating the best off-the-beaten-path spots in Ho Chi Minh City when a commotion coming from the club’s entrance interrupted their conversation. Minako stood up to get a better view, placing a hand on Makoto’s shoulder to boost herself as high as possible.

“Well?” Makoto asked. “Can you tell what’s going on?”

“Someone just arrived . . .” Minako replied, craning her neck to see the newcomer among the crowd. Suddenly her face lit up and she sat down to share the news. “Oh my god! It’s Kato Elisa!”

“Who?” Usagi asked, bewildered.

“Jeez, even _I_ know who she is,” Rei remarked.

“She’s a big-time model,” Makoto supplied.

“Model/singer/actress!” Minako corrected. “She’s amazing! Can you imagine the connections she must have? Oh my god, I _have_ to go talk to her . . .” Makoto firmly pulled her back down as she started to rise.

“C’mon, you can’t do that,” Makoto reasoned. “She’s here to relax, not to be harassed.”

“Oh pooh. I’m not going to harass her; I’m going to network with her. _She’s_ a celebrity, I’m _sort of_ a celebrity . . . I bet we know some of the same people . . .”

“Chill out. She hasn’t even sat down yet,” Makoto pointed out as the model came into view. “Plus, look, she’s here with some . . . one . . .” Makoto trailed off, her face growing pale. She cast a nervous glace at Usagi.

“What?” Usagi turned to check out the scene. There, in an understated black gown, was undoubtedly the most beautiful women she’d ever seen in person. Right behind her, his hand on the small of her back, was Mamoru, looking devastatingly handsome in a classic tuxedo.

“Oh,” she said, turning her back to the couple. Slouching down in her seat, Usagi glumly stuffed her cocktail’s straw into her mouth and began drinking.

“Wait, what just happened?” a confused Rei asked.

“Kato-san is here with Chiba Mamoru,” Ami quietly informed her.

“Guess he didn’t lose his looks like you speculated, huh Rei-chan?” Makoto teased as Rei looked at the couple.

“That’s Chiba Mamoru?” Minako asked, squinting at him through the crowd as Makoto and Ami nodded. “Daaaang. The dude filled out nice, I’ll give him that.”

Usagi, ignoring Minako, continued sucking down her cocktail. They watched as Elisa and Mamoru were led to a table not far from theirs and sat down.

“I’m totally talking to her. And _you_ ,” Minako said, grabbing Usagi’s arm, “are coming with me.”

“Wait, what?” Usagi sputtered.

“Yes, woman! You and Chiba-san have unfinished business.”

“First of all, he’s on a _date_ ,” Usagi pointed out. “Second, he probably totally hates me.”

“Why would he hate you, Usagi-chan?” Ami asked.

“Are you kidding? With the way I ran out on him the last time I saw him?”

“Usagi-chan, that guy’s liked you for a decade,” Makoto reasoned. “I’m willing to bet he was more worried than offended.”

“I don’t know . . .”

“Come on, Usagi-chan! You know you want to . . .” Minako encouraged.

“I agree with Minako-chan,” Rei said, earning four shocked looks from her companions. “You should go talk to him.”

“Wh—What?” Usagi asked, flabbergasted.

Rei sat forward, putting her wineglass down on the table. “Go talk to him,” she said, looking Usagi straight in the eye.

“O . . . OK, Rei-chan. If you really think I should . . .” Usagi acknowledged.

“Awesome!” Minako said, standing up and grabbing Usagi’s arm. “OK, lady, let’s go!”

“What, _now_?!” Usagi protested.

“Yes, _now_. Come on!”

“Wait, wait!” Usagi shouted.

“What?” Minako asked, momentarily easing up on Usagi’s arm.

“Do I look OK?”

Minako smiled at her friend. “You look beautiful,” she told her sincerely.

Looking slightly relieved, Usagi took a deep breath, then nodded. “OK, I’m ready.”

Makoto, Rei, and Ami, huddled together on the far side of the couch to get the best view, watched as Minako pulled a nervous Usagi through the crowd to Elisa and Mamoru’s table.

“Oh dear, Kato-san doesn’t look very happy,” Ami pointed out nervously as Minako interrupted her conversation with Mamoru. Mamoru, however, looked slightly stunned, and couldn’t seem to look away from Usagi.

“C’mon, Usagi-chan, say something!” Makoto urged from afar. Thankfully, Usagi soon began to shyly talk with Mamoru, whose shocked expression gave way to a slightly guarded look.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Ami announced, getting Rei and Makoto’s attention. “I might have done some . . . research on Dr. Chiba a few weeks ago.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Makoto confessed. “What did you find?”

“I spoke with some of my mother’s colleagues about him. He has an impressive reputation as a skilled physician and generous philanthropist. I also read a copy of his thesis, which was about the implications of regional variation in pediatric hospitalization rates for traumatic and non-traumatic injury. It was excellent—meticulously researched and well written. It actually won several awards.”

“That’s very impressive,” Rei acknowledged.

“I agree. He’s done a lot of commendable work.”

“What did you find, Mako-chan?” Rei prompted.

“I did some good old-fashioned Internet stalking,” Makoto replied. “The man isn’t on any social media, but I did find lots of articles about him. Obviously there’s a lot about his philanthropy, but I _also_ found several celebrity gossip articles that mention him.”

“Really?” Ami asked, intrigued.

“Yeah, seems like our friend Chiba-san is one of Tokyo’s hottest bachelors. There are lots of pictures of him accompanying various actresses and models to events.”

“So what are you saying?” Rei asked. “He’s some kind of playboy?”

“No, not necessarily. I mean, I didn’t read anything that would indicate that. Nothing saying he was in a relationship with any of those women, or that his interest was anything but friendly or professional. I’m guessing that he’s just a hot commodity because he’s a gorgeous young doctor who goes to a lot of high-profile events, y’know?”

Rei pursed her lips, looking unconvinced. The three friends once again turned their attentions to the nearby table, where Minako was continuing to schmooze with an annoyed-looking Elisa and Mamoru and Usagi were still making awkward small talk.

“I have a confession to make as well,” Rei remarked. “I also did some research on Chiba Mamoru.”

“By research, you don’t mean . . . a fire reading, do you?” Ami asked.

Rei nodded, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a sip.

Makoto and Ami looked at each other, shocked by Rei’s admission. Several years before, tired of being asked to do readings before every single date her friends went on, Rei had put a ban on doing fire readings for her friend’s relationships. While she had always been a bit uncomfortable doing love forecasts, Rei also felt that her readings could unnaturally manipulate her friends’ romantic lives in negative ways. After all, people tend grow and mature after experiencing heartbreak, learning what is important in a partner in the process. By causing her friends to abandon every relationship before they even started, Rei felt responsible for their continued unhappiness with love. Since then, her two exceptions were doing a reading for Makoto when she and Kazuki became engaged, and her uncharacteristic reading on Chiba Mamoru a few weeks earlier.

“. . . and?” Makoto asked, urging her friend to share what she’d found.

“He’s acceptable.”

“ _Acceptable_?” Makoto echoed as Ami stared at Rei, stunned.

“Correct,” Rei replied, taking another sip of wine. “He would be an acceptable partner for Usagi-chan.”

“Rei-chan,” Ami began after overcoming her shock, “I think that may be the first positive assessment you’ve ever given.”

“Seriously,” Makoto added. “The best Kazuki got was, ‘He won’t kill you in your sleep, I guess.’”

“They’re coming back,” Ami observed.

“Not a word to either of them about what I said,” Rei insisted as Makoto and Ami nodded.

“Hey ladies,” Minako said as she and Usagi rejoined their table.

“How did it go?” Ami asked.

“Eh,” Minako said, shrugging. “Apparently, Mamoru and Elisa were both at the same benefit and she invited him to get drinks after. But Elisa is a total snob. She wouldn’t even give me her email address or anything.”

“And Mamoru?” Makoto asked.

“Mamoru didn’t even remember me!” Minako replied. “Can you believe that?”

“I was asking Usagi-chan . . .” Makoto clarified.

Usagi sighed before responding. “I think I blew it, guys,” she confessed.

“What do you mean, Usagi-chan?” Ami asked.

“It just . . . it felt like the spark was gone. Our conversation was so awkward . . . neither of us knew what to say. . . .”

“Do you think that had something to do with him being here with Elisa?” Rei asked, watching Elisa and Mamoru’s table. Mamoru kept glancing over at Usagi, much to Elisa’s increasing annoyance.

“I don’t know . . . maybe,” Usagi replied with a sigh. “Maybe I should take a page out of Minako-chan’s book and only have flings. Y’know, love ‘em and leave ‘em.”

“No, no, come on,” Minako consoled. “You’re not doing that. I know my life seems very fun and glamorous, but you’re just not the fling type.”

“I could be . . .”

“Puh-lease,” Makoto laughed, “you are a serial monogamist if there ever was one.”

“You ladies ready for another round?” their server asked, gathering the empty glasses from their table.

Minako looked at her friends before turning to the server. “Absolutely.”

Later in the evening, Usagi extricated herself from their sofa. This was difficult not just because of the few drinks she’d had, but also due to the additional bodies that were crammed around their table. A short while before, Minako had been recognized by some fans, who had crashed their ladies’ night.

She looked back at the table where Ami and Rei were having a quiet conversation, Makoto was chatting with one of Minako’s fans, and Minako herself was busy soaking up the adoration of two more fans.

“I’m gonna grab some water,” she called over the din of their table’s chatter. Makoto looked up and gave her a thumbs up.

She slowly made her way through the crowd, squeezing and sidestepping her way past the groups of hip scene kids and chic social climbers full of aspirations and judgment. As she neared the bar, Usagi was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw a familiar face.

“Mamoru-kun . . .”

“Usagi . . .”

Usagi noticed that Mamoru looked a bit unsteady on his feet, making her wonder just how much he had to drink.

“Is everything OK?” she asked.

Mamoru laughed, briefly hanging his head. He was finding it hard to think straight. What he had hoped would be a quiet evening out had turned into a torturous affair. As lovely as Elisa was, she just . . . wasn’t Usagi. Overwhelmed by Usagi’s presence a few tables over, he had dealt with the evening by—admittedly unwisely—pounding down martini after martini.

“Sure . . . everything’s fine . . .” he replied, brushing the bangs out of his face.

“You’re very lucky,” she said, trying to ignore just how painfully handsome he looked in that moment.

“Am I?”

“Sure,” she offered. “Kato-san is so beautiful. I’m sure lots of guys would love to be in your shoes.”

He looked at her thoughtfully—at least as thoughtfully as he could manage in his drunken state. Didn’t she see what he saw? Didn’t she know how utterly charming—how utterly intoxicating—she was?

“She is beautiful,” he remarked, leaning closer to her. “But there’s someone else I’d rather be here with . . .”

Usagi blushed, suddenly feeling hot.

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, Mamoru-kun . . .” she said, taking a step back. “I’m getting some water . . . do you want some?”

Mamoru struggled to control the feelings he’d been pushing aside for the past several weeks.

“Usagi, please . . .” he began, once again closing the gap between them. “I can’t . . . I can’t stop thinking about you . . .” He reached out, slowly brushing the back of his hand along her jaw line, sending shivers up her spine.

She looked at him, wondering if she could trust this inebriated version of Mamoru. But in his slightly bleary eyes she saw a glimmer of truth.

“Mamoru . . .” she said, reaching out to touch his tuxedoed arm.

“Ah, _there_ you are, Mamoru-san!” Elisa said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away from Usagi. “The car’s waiting for us out front. It was nice to meet you, Sugino-san, wasn’t it? But he and I were just leaving.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Usagi said, trying to steady her racing heart. “It was nice meeting you as well, Kato-san . . .” But she was already gone, pulling Mamoru through the crowd toward the door. He looked back, but was unable to find Usagi among the crowd.

Usagi took a few moments to collect herself, pressing her cool hands to her overheated face, before resuming her path to the bar as if nothing had happened.

* * *

Usagi splashed water on her face, enjoying the feeling of the layers of makeup disintegrating at her touch. She lingered over the sink longer than usual, continuing to rinse long after the makeup Minako had so meticulously applied at the beginning of the evening was gone. Toweling off her clean face, Usagi regarded herself in the mirror and sighed. She looked almost as tired as she felt. Hanging her towel back up, she turned off the bathroom light and padded into the living room.

“Time for bed, Luna,” she told her cat, plucking her up off the couch.

As Usagi reached to turn off the living room light, she heard a knock at her door. Startled, she stood still, wondering who would be stopping by so late at night.

“Usagi?” a man’s voice called, followed by a few more knocks.

 _It’s him,_ she thought, gripping Luna tighter.

“Usagi? I saw your light on. . . . Can we just talk, please?”

Putting Luna down, Usagi quietly walked to her door, already feeling his overwhelming presence. She pressed her hands to the door, wondering if he was doing the same on the other side.

“Usagi?"

Her mind was racing. Was she really ready for this? Steadying herself, she slowly opened the door.

“I’m really sorry to bother you so late. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

She shook her head. “No, I was just getting ready for bed.” 

“Listen,” he said, leaning toward her, “I think you know that you’ve been on my mind a lot lately. Could we talk? Is that OK?”

Usagi sighed, looking up at his charming face. She thought of everything that had happened in the last several weeks, and of the events that had passed that evening. Could she really do this?

She hesitated before stepping aside, opening the door wider to allow him entry.

“Come on in, Daisuke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Enter lesbians, stage left.
> 
> I am insanely lucky to have Antigone2 as my cheerleader, sounding board, and partner in OTP-related crimes.
> 
> Check out the girls' outfits at http://irritablevowel.tumblr.com/post/138760238099/i-really-enjoyed-imagining-the-girls-out-on-the


	6. Chapter 6

Usagi was listening to the man seated next to her on the couch, her hands grasped in his. Daisuke's endless platitudes of contrition had been flowing over her in waves since he arrived fifteen minutes prior, tempering her anger; his well-rehearsed excuses headed off her grievances.

"I know how it looked, okay? And I admit that I reacted badly when you saw me. But that other girl . . . she didn't mean anything, honestly. I was just giving her career advice, like I said. You know how it is."

She looked up at him, confused. "What do you mean, I know how it is?"

"I mean, can I help it if girls are always throwing themselves at me?"

Usagi sighed and looked down at their clasped hands. He wasn't wrong—women did flock to him. Daisuke was handsome, successful, and oozed charisma, which attracted female attention wherever they went.

"I guess . . . but that doesn't explain why you have to humor them so much—especially when I'm there. You have no idea how awful it feels to be ignored by you any time another woman comes around," she admitted, trying hard to keep her voice from quivering.

"C'mon, Usa. You're my girl. Are you really going to throw away everything that we had over this? Over nothing?"

Taking a hand from hers, he touched her chin, bringing her face up toward his once again. Looking into his mesmerizing eyes, Usagi's resolve began to crumble.

"You know I'd never deliberately hurt you, right Usa?"

She felt the power behind his words wash over her and the rest of the world fell away. She knew he was right, just as he always was.

"I know, Daisuke."

Daisuke suppressed a smirk. As strong as she usually tried to be, she always gave in to him in the end.

"Look, Usa, I was an idiot and I'm sorry you got so upset. Do forgive me?" he asked, delicately taking her left hand in his and bringing it up to his lips for a chivalrous kiss. A jolt went through her as his lips brushed the scar on her index finger, flooding her mind with images: Mamoru tenderly kissing the same finger, causing her stomach to do back flips; Rei hurling a wineglass at Daisuke's furious face; Makoto trying to comfort her after her run-in with Ryuta; Ami explaining how difficult it was to see her with Daisuke, who doesn't support her or make her happy; Minako dragging her to Mamoru; Mamoru confessing that he couldn't stop thinking about her . . .

The images stopped as suddenly as they began. She tried to steady her breathing as she stared at Daisuke. Did she forgive him? Could she? She always had in the past . . .

"Daisuke . . . yes, of course I forgive you." He smiled smugly and sat back as she rose from the couch. "I'll be right back; I have something I've been meaning to give you."

Usagi disappeared into her bedroom, returning a short while later with a cardboard box.

"Here," she said, depositing it in his lap.

"What's this?" he asked, peering into the box.

"It's your stuff."

His expression hardened as he recognized the razor, cologne, clothing, and other items he had left at her place during their relationship.

"What the fuck, Usagi? You just said you forgave me . . ."

"I do forgive you, Daisuke," she replied sincerely. "But that doesn't mean I'm taking you back."

He stared at his belongings, trying to process her rejection. "Look, I'm not playing around here—"

"Neither am I, Daisuke. Do you honestly think after all you've put me through that I'd be willing to do it again?"

"C'mon Usa . . ."

"No. Look, Daisuke. We tried. We did. But I just . . . after everything that has happened, I don't think I can ever trust you again."

He stared at her for a few moments before relaxing again. Chuckling lightly, he placed the box on the coffee table. "I get what's happening here. OK, Usa, you can move in with me. I told you before you could—I'm surprised you made it this long in this postage stamp. You'd have to get rid of the cat, though."

"Daisuke, I'm not going to move in with you," she replied calmly.

"What else do you want? You want me to propose? I wasn't planning on it but if—"

"No. No, no, no. I do not want that," she insisted, once more joining him on the couch as he regarded her skeptically. "Look, we tried. We really did. But we just aren't a good fit for each other."

"That's not true; you're everything I need. You're so beautiful . . . so forgiving . . ." he explained, reaching out a hand to stroke her face. She did her best to shrug off his caress. "Don't you love me anymore, Usa?" he asked, staring deep into her eyes.

She turned away from his intense gaze, doing her best to keep her nerves under control and the tears threatening to fall at bay. Usagi knew that she had to stay strong if she wanted to be rid of him for good.

"Honestly, Daisuke, I don't know," she began, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself before continuing. "But . . . I do know that I don't really love myself right now, and that I need time to work on being happy again."

"Usa, this is cute, but I don't want to play games."

"I'm not playing with you, Daisuke," she insisted. "I'm done. We are done"

Daisuke's eyes flashed dangerously as he realized for the first time how serious she was.

"Work on being happy, huh? Why are you up so late anyway, Usa? Out what that asshole you trotted out in front of Ryuta to make me jealous?"

"What? OK, first of all, that 'asshole' is a well-respected doctor and an old friend of mine, so I'd appreciate it if you and your friends stopped giving me a hard time about it. You're the one who cheats, not me, remember? And second, not that it's any of your business, but I was out with the girls tonight."

"Oh, well, that explains everything," he fumed, getting up on the couch. "Your friends have been jealous of our relationship since day 1."

"Daisuke, that is just not true—" she interjected, trying to avoid yet another fight about her friends, knowing from experience that she would lose her cool. Even after Daisuke had conquered her self-confidence, she remained fiercely protective of her friends—a loyalty he could never understand and was invariably threatened by.

"Please, that fucking bitch Rei has had it out for me since the day she met me. There's something screwy with her, Usagi. All that priestess psychic shit has fried her brain. I bet she took you to that bar just to catch me out . . ." Daisuke's face paled slightly as he realized what he was about to let slip.

"Catch you out on a date with another woman," Usagi supplied, her expression icy, "again?"

"Fuck you," Daisuke snapped, stalking across the room.

Usagi looked down at her hands, trying to work up the resolve to finish what she set out to do when she let him in. After a few more calming breaths she stood up, walking toward the spot where Daisuke stood sulking.

"Daisuke," she began, looking up at him with compassion, "look. I'm sorry things didn't work out with us."

He scoffed, turning away from her. "Yeah right."

"No, really. This isn't easy. I don't like having to hurt you, Daisuke."

"Then just take me back," he said, turning back toward her. "Stop putting us through this."

Unable to look at Daisuke's pained expression, Usagi let her head drop. Fighting back tears, she slowly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Daisuke. I just can't do this anymore."

"Maybe tomorrow—"

"No. There's no tomorrow for us, Daisuke. This is it."

"So, what, I'm just supposed to leave? Bye-bye Daisuke, thanks for everything, but I don't need you and your money anymore. Is that it?"

Usagi sighed. "Whatever. I guess."

"You guess? Listen, Usagi," he sneered, leaning his scowling face down toward hers. "No one breaks up with me."

Usagi returned his gaze with a righteous intensity so powerful it caused Daisuke to step back in surprise.

"I'm pretty sure I just did, Daisuke." Usagi left Daisuke where he stood to retrieve his box. "Here," she said, once again giving it to the stunned man, "take this. I'd like for you to leave now."

He took the box with a scowl and made his way to the door, Usagi close behind. He paused in the doorway.

"Once I walk through this door, it's over, and I'm not coming back," he threatened.

"That's what I'm counting on."

"You're a real bitch, Usagi."

"Thank you. I'm sure Rei-chan will be proud." She watched as he made his way to the front gate. "Oh, and Daisuke," she called, causing him to turn hopefully, "if you ever come back, I'm calling the cops."

"Keh! Don't flatter yourself, Usagi. Like you're worth it." He turned and let himself out of the gate, and strode purposefully out of her life. She watched as he disappeared into the night like a bad dream.

Usagi carefully closed the door, resting her forehead against its cool surface as she fastened the deadbolt. Her strength drained, she turned and slowly slid to the floor. It had taken all of her resolve to get Daisuke out of her life; now no longer able to hold back her tears, Usagi put her head on her knees and sobbed. The months of pain and heartache, the anxiety, the feelings of worthlessness and self-doubt all flowed out of her.

She looked up when she felt something fuzzy rubbing against her leg.

"Luna," she sniffed, pulling her beloved black cat into her lap. "I did it, Luna. I really did it." Luna purred as Usagi cried into her fur, holding on to her a little too tightly.

After the tears had ebbed, after an exhausted Usagi fell asleep on the floor, and after the birds announced the coming of a new day, Luna remained by her side. And when Usagi awoke in the morning, she knew in her heart that everything was going to be OK.

* * *

"Yo, Kitten! Long time no see."

Usagi looked up to see a tall sandy-haired woman chivalrously holding the door open for her elegant turquoise-haired companion, the taller woman's hand on the small of her partner's back. A wide smile lit Usagi's face as the pair of familiar women entered OSA-P. Quickly replacing the tray of rings she had been arranging, Usagi emerged from behind the counter to greet her friends with hugs.

"Haruka-san, Michiru-san! It's so good to see you both," she beamed.

"It's good to see you, too, Usagi-chan," Michiru assured her as she removed her oversized sunglasses.

"Gosh it's been so long since I've seen you both! How was the tour?" Usagi asked as she led the women back toward the counter she had been working behind.

"Wonderful," Michiru replied, placing her sunglasses in her purse. "I had the opportunity to collaborate with a few musicians I really admire and reconnected with some important patrons."

"Michiru has quite the following in Europe," Haruka added. "You wouldn't believe some of the parties that were thrown in her honor. I've never eaten so much caviar in my life."

"That sounds so nice . . ." Usagi sighed, leaning on the counter.

"It was," Michiru agreed, "but I have to admit it's nice to be home after such a long time on the road. Plus, this one missed her babies."

"Your babies?" Usagi asked, looking at Haruka with a startled expression.

"My motorcycles," Haruka clarified, winking at Usagi. "I get kind of stir crazy if I don't get to ride enough."

"Yeah, I could see that," Usagi giggled.

"Don't feel too bad for Haruka. She took me on plenty of rides during the trip," Michiru remarked with a signature enigmatic smile, earning a blush from her partner.

"I bet that was fun!" Usagi replied.

"Yes, very enjoyable," Michiru smirked as Haruka's blush deepened.

"Kaioh-san! Tenoh-san!" Osaka-san exclaimed, emerging from the back office. "Tsukino-san mentioned you'd be coming by today. It's so wonderful to see you both again. Kaioh-san, I think you're going to love the piece Tsukino-san prepared for you."

"I'm sure I will," Michiru sincerely replied as the polished middle-aged woman approached their counter.

Seeing Haruka and Michiru in the shop always put Osaka-san in a good mood, as it always meant good exposure and a good commission. The wealthy couple had long been fans of Usagi's work and were some of the first to commission pieces from her. Over the past few years they commissioned a few pieces a year in addition to recommending her services to their high-society associates, happy to be able to support their friend artistically and financially.

Though Michiru had commissioned an ocean-inspired hairpiece several weeks before she left on tour, it had taken Usagi months of hard work to craft the piece. She had found it both exhilarating and nerve-racking to work on such an ambitious (and expensive) project, but it had been a welcome distraction from the drama of her romantic life. Osaka-san had assured her it was her best work to date, but Usagi was still a bit apprehensive about Michiru's reaction.

"Tsukino-san, why don't you get the piece from the safe, and I'll keep our guests company."

"Yes, Osaka-san," Usagi replied, leaving her boss to schmooze with two of her highest-profile clients. Usagi quickly returned to the counter with a black jewelry case, which she placed before Michiru.

Michiru's eyes lit up as Usagi opened the case. "Oh, Usagi-chan! You've really outdone yourself this time," she marveled, flooding Usagi with relief.

Lifting the hairpiece from its case, Michiru studied the trio of vibrant jeweled waves breaking across the shaft of the comb. Aquamarine gemstones set in platinum imitated vivid sea waves, while snow-white pearls of various sizes were used to create their white water caps.

"Let me bring you a mirror so you can try it on, Kaioh-san," Osaka-san said, hurrying to retrieve the item from a nearby counter.

"Look, Haruka," Michiru said with shining eyes, holding the piece up for her partner to admire. Haruka's expression grew tender at the look of pure happiness on her lover's face; the moment felt so intensely intimate that Usagi had to look away.

"It's really something, Kitten," Haruka admired, finally taking her eyes off her partner and taking the comb from Michiru.

"Thank you so much, Haruka-san, Michiru-san," Usagi replied humbly.

Michiru quickly twisted and clipped her turquoise locks into a messy updo before retrieving the comb from her partner. "What do you think?" she asked, placing the comb among her tousled waves.

"Simply gorgeous," Osaka-san replied. "It looks just beautiful with your hair and really brings out your eyes."

"Haruka?" Michiru prompted.

"Let me put it this way: If we didn't already own it, I'd be willing to pay anything to get it for you."

"I agree. It's just perfect. Thank you so much, Usagi-chan."

"I'm so happy you like it!" Usagi beamed.

"Now," Osaka-san inquired, "how would you like to take care of the balance?"

"I've got it," Haruka announced, handing Osaka-san her card as Michiru placed the comb back in its case. Osaka-san promptly returned with the receipt, which Haruka signed with a flourish.

"Hey Usagi-chan," Haruka inquired as Usagi set the case in a bag for Michiru to carry, "are we still on for lunch?"

"Absolutely!"

"Oh Tenoh-san, Kaioh-san," Osaka-san interjected, "please let me pay for your lunch as a thank you for your generous purchase."

"That's really not necessary, Osaka-san," Michiru replied, politely repressing a smirk.

"No, no, I insist!" she responded, pressing her card into Usagi's palm and leading the trio of young women toward the door. "Now you three take your time and have a wonderful meal! Don't worry about rushing back, Tsukino-san, I've got everything under control."

"Thank you, Osaka-san," Usagi said, trying her best to hide a bemused smile as she was hustled out the door.

"I swear the only time I get an open-ended lunch is when you two come around," Usagi explained once they were out of earshot of the jewelry shop.

"That's why we always come at lunchtime, Kitten," Haruka explained, tapping the end of Usagi's nose.

"So where would you like to go, Usagi-chan?" Michiru asked, handing her lover the shop bag and fetching her sunglasses from her purse.

"There's a cute pasta place around the corner that just opened up . . . they have the most amazing desserts! Does that sound OK?"

"You're the boss," Haruka replied, content to follow Usagi anywhere she might lead.

* * *

"So, how are you? How are the girls?" Michiru asked pleasantly after they had settled in at the bistro and ordered.

"Oh, everyone's just fine."

"Yeah?" Haruka remarked. "Anything new and exciting happen since we've been gone?"

"Hmm. Well, Ami-chan and her boyfriend are actually talking about moving in together . . ."

"Woah, isn't that a little fast?" Haruka teased. "They've only been dating, what, four years?"

"Oh believe me, I know. It's been discussed at length. Not with her, of course . . ."

"Of course," Haruka smirked.

"And you?" Michiru asked. "How are things with . . . Keisuke? Was that his name?" Haruka didn't bother to conceal a noise of disapproval at the mention of Usagi's boyfriend as their server placed their drinks down in front of them.

"Daisuke. And no. We are officially donezo. Ugh, I can't believe how long I put up with him and his nonsense."

"When did all of that happen?" Michiru asked sympathetically.

"Oh gosh, almost two months ago now. It was just . . . it got really bad, and I told him it was over for good. He was not a good person for me. But I've had time to think and heal and honestly I feel like I'm in a much better place now. I feel like me again."

"Good," Haruka declared. "That guy was a jackass. You can do a lot better, Kitten," she said, patting Usagi's hand reassuringly.

"She's right, Usagi-chan. I know we only met him once but . . . you can do a lot better."

"Of course I'm right! When am I not?" Haruka boasted, earning an incredulous look from Michiru and a giggle from Usagi. "Don't worry, Kitten," Haruka added, leaning toward Usagi. "Girls like you don't stay single long."

"That's true," Michiru acknowledged kindly. "I'm sure another beau will be along soon."

"Well . . . that's actually something I wanted to talk to you about," Usagi said, nervously stirring her soda with the straw, watching waves of tiny bubbles hurry to the surface. "I kind of need your help with something."

"I told you she'd switch teams," Haruka whispered to Michiru, who silenced her with a sharp elbow to the ribs.

"Go on, Usagi-chan," Michiru encouraged as Haruka grumpily rubbed her side.

Usagi took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Well, there's this guy," she began, ignoring Haruka's disappointed grumble. "We actually have known each other since middle school, but we didn't really get along back then. We were always annoying each other . . . picking on each other . . . stupid stuff like that."

"Juvenile teasing," Michiru acknowledged, rubbing Haruka's leg.

"Exactly," Usagi said, taking another sip of her soda. "So, anyway, I didn't see this guy for years and years. Then, a few months ago, I cut my finger and had to get stitches. Who stitched me up?"

"Your juvenile Romeo?" Haruka volunteered.

"Yep! Only now neither of us is juvenile and we end up going out for dinner and getting along really well, and then we go out again after he takes my stitches out, and he tells me he wants to call me but I totally freaked out because I was still recovering from the whole Daisuke situation so I turned him down. But, it was a mistake . . . and I . . ."

Usagi paused, struggling to find the words to describe her thoughts and feelings over the last few weeks . . . about the undeniable connection between them that she had tried so hard to ignore; about how Mamoru made her feel more safe, respected, and appreciated than any of her ex's ever had; about how she couldn't stop thinking about him and wondered if he was still thinking about her, too; about how it affected her when he was near her, looked at her, touched her . . .

". . . I just . . . I'd just really like to talk with him again," she continued, "and see if he still wants to give me a chance."

"So call him and talk to him," Michiru suggested, sipping her tea. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear from you."

"Well, that's just it—I don't have his number, and I haven't been able to find any contact information online," she explained, stabbing an ice cube with her straw.

Usagi had learned what Makoto had discovered before her: that aside from a few pictures of him accompanying random B-list celebrities and socialites to events around Tokyo, Mamoru was frustratingly impossible to track down online. Even his office number was unlisted, and Ami had (rather tersely) declined Usagi's request to hack into Shinagawa Metropolitan Hospital's database for it. Usagi had been polishing Michiru's comb the previous week, considering sacrificing another finger to the cause, when she realized that the solution to her problems was quite literally in her hands.

"Hmm, that is quite a problem," Michiru acknowledged. "Am I correct in assuming this is why you need our help?"

Usagi nodded before adding slowly, deliberately, "He's an acquaintance of yours."

"Really?" Haruka asked, leaning forward. "How does he know us?"

"He's on the board of a children's foundation with Michiru-san."

"The Children's Home and Benefit Foundation?" she asked, surprised.

"Uh-huh," Usagi confirmed. "His name is Chiba Mamoru." She looked at Michiru, hoping for a sign of recognition.

"Chiba Mamoru . . . yes, I remember him," Michiru said, flooding Usagi with relief. "We've met a few times, actually. Tall, dark, and handsome, right?" Michiru smirked into her tea as Haruka rolled her eyes.

"Wait a minute," Haruka interjected. "Isn't that the guy Setsuna's always blushing around? I'll never understand how that dweeb attracts so many beautiful—oomf! Damn Michiru!" she protested as her partner once again jabbed her in the ribs. "Chill out!"

"Ignore her, Usagi-chan. Dr. Chiba is a lovely man." She leaned closer to Usagi, whispering conspiratorially, "Haruka always gets jealous when men are more popular than she is. . . ."

Usagi giggled as Haruka glared at Michiru.

"So," Michiru continued, "you'd like to be put in contact with Dr. Chiba, is that correct?"

"Yes! I mean, if he's still interested," Usagi responded. For all she knew, he could be seeing someone else, or have written her off for being too much trouble. "Do you think it's possible?"

Michiru considered the woman before her thoughtfully, swirling her tea in its cup before placing the cup on its saucer. "Usagi-chan, were you still planning on going to my concert this weekend?"

"Yes . . ."

"Do you have a date?" Michiru grinned as a smile spread across Usagi's face.

"No, not yet, anyway . . ." she replied, trying not to get her hopes too high.

"Well," Michiru remarked, picking up her teacup, "I suggest you show up to the ball on time, princess, and leave your prince to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not come very easily; even though I knew exactly what was going to happen, getting it down was tough! (I avoid conflict whenever possible so writing a fight like that took me out of my comfort zone.) As always, thanks to my beta Antigone2 for her endless support, enthusiasm, and encouragement. (She put me to shame, publishing an ENTIRE fic in the time it took me to write this chapter! Sorry everyone...)
> 
> In case anyone is curious, Michiru's hairpiece was inspired by Boucheron's Wave Tiara, which was itself inspired by Hokusai's "Great Wave off Kanagawa."
> 
> Next time: Conclusion


	7. Chapter 7

Mamoru stood apart from the other stragglers in the courtyard in front of the concert hall, checking his watch. She was late, and he was growing more nervous by the second.

Three days earlier, he had been surprised to get a call from Kaioh Michiru herself, wanting to know if he was interested in attending her concert Friday evening with a friend of hers. Mamoru politely declined—he was scheduled for an overnight shift and wasn't keen to call in all of his favors to get a Friday night off with such short notice, and particularly not for a random friend of an acquaintance.

"That's too bad," she had coyly responded. "I suppose I can find someone else to accompany Usagi-chan to the concert . . . but she was so hoping to spend the evening with you."

He managed to rearrange his schedule.

Mamoru been mortified by his behavior at his last encounter with Usagi—what he could remember of it, anyway. He awoke the following morning alone on his bathroom floor with foggy visions of Usagi's shocked face after his drunken confession (as well as Elisa telling him to never contact her again) and spent the rest of the day nursing a bad hangover and worse regret. Certain he had destroyed any lingering chance he ever had with Usagi, he spent the next two months trying and failing to forget her. He spent extra hours at the hospital, volunteered, read half a dozen books—even agreed to a few tepid dates—but Usagi would always creep into his thoughts and dreams, torturously out of reach.

Michiru's unexpected call had rekindled the flame of hope in his heart, and he was determined not to let what might very well be his last shot with Usagi go to waste.

Michiru had explained over the phone that she had two tickets reserved under his name for him to pick up at the box office, and to meet Usagi by the fountains in front of the concert hall at 8:30, half an hour before the concert was scheduled to begin. Wanting the evening to go as smoothly as possible, Mamoru decided to show up early to wait in line for the tickets and be back by the fountains with plenty of time to meet Usagi.

Now, with the concert beginning in just 15 minutes, doubts were plaguing Mamoru's thoughts. What if Usagi changed her mind? What if, recalling his drunken behavior, she decided he wasn't worth giving a chance? What if, thinking of their contentious years, she realized she hated him, after all? What if it was all a joke to get back at what he'd put her through?

The sound of hurried footsteps on the stairs leading to the courtyard halted Mamoru's wallowing. Looking up hopefully, his chest swelled as Usagi finally appeared with blazing eyes and pink cheeks from her sprint up the stairs. Frantically looking around the courtyard, she spied Mamoru and quickly ran over to him—a skillful high-heeled dash that was clearly the result of much practice.

"Oh, Mamoru-kun!" she puffed, reaching him a moment later. "I'm sorry I'm so late. I got lost —this place is a maze!"

"Hey, no problem," he replied, unable to prevent a smile from spreading across his face as all his doubts melted away. "You're here now, and we still have a few minutes before the show starts, right?"

Usagi nodded, then took a moment to catch her breath and straighten the neckline of her knee-length rose-patterned dress.

"You look wonderful, by the way," Mamoru added.

"Thank you," she replied, giving Mamoru a disarmingly radiant smile. "You clean up pretty nice, too," she added, giving his tuxedoed appearance an admiring once-over.

"Thanks," he chuckled, adjusting his bow tie briefly before returning his gaze to her. "I really like your earrings," he continued, tentatively reaching out to touch one of the milky blossoms. "Did you make them?"

"Yep," she replied, fingering one of the earrings, "they're moonstone roses, just like my ring. Oh, that reminds me!" she said, opening her purse and digging around. "I have something for you."

"Something for me?"

"Mmm-hmm. Ah! Here it is." Usagi smiled as she pulled out a lapel pin topped with a miniature golden rose. "I made this for you. . . . It just . . . I thought it would suit you."

"You made that for me?" Mamoru replied, touched by her gesture.

She nodded, her cheeks turning pink. "May I?" she asked, holding the pin toward his silky black lapel.

"Of course." He watched intently as she carefully threaded the pin through the fabric, savoring her closeness.

"There," she said once it was secured. As she smoothed out the lapel, she allowed her hands to linger a bit longer than necessary on his chest. Before she could remove her hands completely, Mamoru reached up and took her right hand in his, flooding her cheeks with warmth. She looked up, his darkening eyes leaving her breathless.

"Usagi . . ." he began as the sound of hurried footsteps coming from the stairs echoed through the courtyard and interrupted his thoughts. A tuxedoed man soon appeared and dashed to the concert hall's doors, disappearing inside. Looking around, Mamoru realized he and Usagi were the only people still lingering outside. He sighed and let his head drop briefly before releasing Usagi's hand. ". . . we should probably find our seats."

"Yeah . . ." Usagi reluctantly agreed, taking a step away from him, attempting to calm her racing heart.

"Shall we?" Mamoru asked, offered her the crook of his arm. She smiled, taking it gratefully, and they quickly made their way into the concert hall. Once inside, an usher directed them to two front-row center seats in a raised section directly to the left of the stage, giving them an excellent view of the stage as well as the rest of the audience. They managed to sit just as the house lights darkened and an announcer came out to introduce Michiru and her accompanist.

"Oh look! There's Haruka-san and Setsuna-san!" Usagi whispered, pointing to the balcony directly opposite theirs. Mamoru looked up to see the two women watching them while quietly conversing. Usagi leaned forward and waved, earning a wink from Haruka and a warm smile from Setsuna.

"I've never had such good seats before!" Usagi added happily to Mamoru as they turned off their phones and got settled in.

"We'll have to thank Kaioh-san after the show," Mamoru replied, briefly squeezing her arm.

"Yes we will," she muttered, gazing at Mamoru's profile in the dim light as the crowd applauded Michiru's entrance, before returning her attention to the stage. She sighed, admiring how striking Michiru's looked in her structured mermaid gown. The gown's deep-blue color beautifully complimented Michiru's her teal hair, which was elegantly piled in an updo set off by Usagi's comb.

Usagi and Mamoru watched as Michiru and her accompanist prepared for the performance. As Michiru began to play, the rest of the world fell away, and they were more than content to lose themselves in the music and each other's nearness.

* * *

"That was incredible!" Usagi laughed, spreading her arms and spinning among the thinning crowd.

The concert had ended a short while earlier, and, after a standing ovation, three curtain calls, and an encore, the audience was finally satiated enough to allow the celebrated violinist to retire for the evening. Usagi and Mamoru were slowly making their way out of the concert hall, neither one in a hurry to end the evening.

The nervous couple had spent the first half of the concert covertly stealing glances at each other, neither sure enough of the other's feelings to make a move. After spending the intermission shakily downing a glass of red wine while watching Usagi charm the older couple standing next to them, Mamoru finally worked up the courage to take her hand in his sometime during the intermezzo movement of the Poulenc. They spent the entirety of the Debussy slowly acclimating to each other's touch—though they struggled to ignore the electricity created by each new tentative caress. By the time the encore wrapped up, they actively sought out each other's touch, quickly rethreading their fingers each time their hands came apart to applaud the performance.

"Don't you think it was incredible, Mamoru-kun?" Usagi asked, clasping her hands together and gazing at him with shining eyes.

"Definitely," Mamoru replied, chuckling at her childlike show of joy. He reached a hand out to her, which she happily took in her own.

"It might actually be the best performance of hers I've ever seen," Mamoru added.

"I agree. Tonight felt really special," she replied as she pressed herself next to him, grasping the crook of his arm with her free hand.

"Oi, Kitten!"

Usagi turned at the familiar call, spotting Haruka leaning out from behind a doorway marked Employees Only.

"Haruka-san! C'mon Mamoru-kun, let's go say hi," she said, dragging her date across the lobby.

"Enjoying your night, Usagi-chan?" Haruka asked as they reached her.

"Oh my gosh yes! It's been wonderful!" Usagi beamed. "Haruka-san, you remember Chiba Mamoru?"

"Nice to see you again, Tenoh-san," Mamoru said, politely inclining his head toward Haruka.

"Chiba," Haruka curtly responded before returning her attention to Usagi. "Michiru wanted me to invite you guys to the rooftop terrace for the after-party. You interested?"

"Really?" Usagi asked, a smile splitting her face. "That sounds so fun! What do you think, Mamoru-kun?"

"Sounds great," he agreed, squeezing her hand.

"Cool. Follow me," Haruka instructed, holding the heavy metal door open to allow them entry. They followed her through the maze-like backstage to a door that led outside, then climbed a staircase that took them to an elegantly lit rooftop terrace where Michiru was chatting with a group of admirers. Tuxedoed servers wove among the well-to-do partygoers, offering hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne to the guests. A meticulously manicured but unlit garden thickly lined with trees stretched out behind the terrace, its path winding enticingly in the moonlight.

Michiru noticed the trio and raised her champagne flute in greeting.

"Looks like Michiru's busy schmoozing with some of her patrons at the moment. . . ." Haruka observed as a server stopped to offer them food.

Usagi quickly popped a canapé in her mouth, her face transforming with delight. "You guys've gotta try this!" she declared thickly through her mouthful of food as she placed a canapé in both of her companions' hands. Usagi then paused briefly, considering the tray in front of her before scooping the rest of the canapés into her hands, thanking the server as he went to refill his depleted tray.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, Usagi turned to find Setsuna standing behind her.

"Setsuna-san! Do you want one of these salmon thingies?" she asked, holding up her handful of food. "They're really good!"

"No thank you, Usagi-san," Setsuna replied with a smile.

Usagi shrugged, helping herself to the rest of the food she was holding.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Meioh," Mamoru said, bobbing his head toward the newcomer.

"You as well, Dr. Chiba," she replied as her cheeks gained the faintest hint of pink, prompting Haruka to roll her eyes.

"Wasn't the concert wonderful?" Usagi asked, clapping her now-empty hands together to rid them of crumbs. "Listening to Michiru-san, it's like . . . like being transported to another world or something."

Haruka's expression softened at Usagi's words. "I know what you mean, Kitten," she said, leaning toward the young woman. "I've been under her spell ever since the first time I heard her play. Not that I'm complaining . . ."

"You were a goner long before you heard her play, Haruka," Setsuna remarked, sipping her champagne.

Haruka chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

"Dr. Meioh," Mamoru began, "I've been meaning to ask, how do you know Kaioh-san and Tenoh-san?"

"Oh, the three of us go way back," Setsuna responded, the ghost of a smirk flitting across her face. "I was Haruka's physics tutor back when I was in undergrad."

"I missed a lot of school cuz of my racing," Haruka explained, "and physics was the subject that suffered the most. My dad hired Setsuna to make sure I didn't fail out of high school. She somehow managed to help me to pass, but it was painful."

"And it wasn't long before our private tutoring sessions gained a third member."

"The three of us got along so well that we kept hanging out even after my class was over . . . at least when we could manage between my racing, Michiru's performances, and Professor Meioh here getting her Ph.D. Of course now when we hang out she has to put up with me without compensation," Haruka joked, playfully nudging Setsuna.

"That's not true Haruka dear, I get paid in concerts and alcohol now," Setsuna quipped, holding up her champagne flute with a smile.

"Then we'd better get you a refill quick," Haruka joked, noting Setsuna's nearly empty glass.

"Looks like Michiru-san finally got away," Usagi noted, watching the violinist making her way toward their group. Haruka turned with a smile, holding out an arm for her lover as Michiru neared, which she gratefully took.

"How're you holding up, love?" Haruka asked.

"Better now," she replied, giving Haruka a quick peck on the lips. "I swear these receptions can be more exhausting than the concerts. How about you guys?" she asked, turning to Usagi and Mamoru. "Are you having a good time?"

"We're having a wonderful time," Usagi responded as Mamoru nodded in agreement. "Thank you so much for the tickets, Michiru-san!"

"Oh don't mention it," she replied, waving off Usagi's words of gratitude. "Besides, it benefits me to have friendly faces in the crowd; it helps me play better. And judging by how inspired I felt tonight, I hope you both come to a lot more of my concerts."

"Sounds good to me," Mamoru said, smiling at Usagi.

"Usagi-chan," Michiru began, "I actually came over here to steal you away for a few minutes, if you don't mind."

"Steal me away?" Usagi asked, surprised.

"Yes, you," she said, exchanging Haruka's arm for Usagi's. "Everyone keeps asking about my enchanting hair comb, and when I mentioned the jeweler herself was here, they insisted on meeting you."

"Oh my gosh, really?" Usagi squealed. "You don't mind, do you, Mamoru?"

"Not at all," he smiled. "Go have fun."

Mamoru, Haruka, and Setsuna watched as Michiru guided an excited Usagi through the partygoers, quickly becoming enveloped by a group of admirers.

The next hour was a blur for Usagi. Used to the attention of the wealthy, Michiru took command, managing to simultaneously talk up Usagi's artistry to the crowd while introducing her to each potential new client in turn. Usagi was grateful she kept a stash of business cards in her wallet, though she quickly ran out.

She was relieved when interest in her waned enough to give her a moment to look for Mamoru among the crowd. She quickly spotted Haruka, who looked up from her conversation with a few acquaintances to give Usagi a subtle wink. Tucked behind Haruka were Mamoru and Setsuna, deep in discussion. Usagi smiled to see Mamoru engaging Setsuna in conversation, but after noticing Setsuna's somewhat reverent expression and the blush staining her cheeks, Usagi's expression fell.

Usagi turned away, trying to ignore the feelings of inadequacy that snaked through her at seeing Mamoru and Setsuna together. Even with the fresh promise of several lucrative commissions, Usagi still felt like a dumb kid next to poised and intelligent Setsuna. Try as she might, she couldn't help feeling that Mamoru and Setsuna made much more sense as a couple. She never had been able to figure out what Mamoru saw in her . . .

Usagi did her best to smile convincingly as she excused herself from Michiru's side. She didn't look back as she made her way onto the moonlit garden path, grateful for a private spot to escape the crowd and collect herself.

Her departure did not go unnoticed.

Haruka's eyes narrowed as she watched Usagi make her way through the crowd and get swallowed by the night. Extricating herself from her conversation, Haruka returned to Setsuna's side to glare at Mamoru.

"Oi. Chiba."

"Yes, Tenoh-san?" Mamoru asked, trying to ignore the waves of disapproval wafting off of Haruka.

"Just thought I'd inform you that your date just wandered into the garden on her own looking upset, since you obviously didn't notice."

"What do you mean?" he asked, his brows knitting together in concern. "Why was she upset?"

"I don't know," she said, shifting toward him menacingly, "but I do know this: you don't deserve her."

Setsuna closed her eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

"Tenoh-san," Mamoru began, "this might surprise you, but I agree with you."

Setsuna opened her eyes to look at Mamoru as Haruka backed away from him slightly, surprised at his response.

"I'll say this," he continued, "she makes me want to be a better person, and as long as she'll have me, I will work every day of my life to be worthy of her. Dr. Meioh, it was wonderful catching up. Tenoh-san, I'll see you around. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find my date."

He brushed past Haruka, leaving her somewhat abashed. Setsuna smirked.

"I still don't know what you see in that guy," Haruka added grumpily.

"Give it a rest, Haruka. He's a good man."

"If he's such a good man, how come you never let us fix you up with him?"

Setsuna sighed. "I like and respect Dr. Chiba very much, and I value the little time I get to spend with him. But . . . I'm not what he needs, and there's no point in me putting myself through that when I know what the outcome would be."

"What, and you think Usagi-chan is?"

"Yes, I do. I think they will make each other very happy."

"Setsuna . . ."

"What?"

"What about you? Don't you want to be happy?"

"Haruka," Setsuna said, wrapping her arm around Haruka's, "I know you mean well, and I appreciate you looking out for me, but I am happy. I'm happy that they found each other. I'm happy that you and Michiru found each other. If all of you are happy, then all is right in the world. Trust me."

"Whatever," Haruka replied, acknowledging that the argument was over. "Where did that girl go with all the champagne? I need a drink . . ."

Across the terrace, Mamoru took a moment to take a deep breath and straighten his bowtie before stepping onto the garden path. Among the lush greenery Mamoru felt like he was in another world; the din of the reception fell with each step, the lights of the terrace occasionally filtering through the trees like electric starlight.

Hearing a voice, Mamoru turned off the path, only to quietly backtrack after stumbling upon a couple whispering quiet declarations of love among the shadows. Another couple snuggled on a bench further along the path, giving Mamoru only a cursory glance before allowing themselves to once again become lost in each other's presence.

Mamoru grew worried as the path progressed around the back of the garden with no sign of Usagi. He was becoming fearful that he had missed her, or that she had left the party entirely, when he spotted a glimpse of white glowing pale among the dark trees. Carefully making his way through the foliage, Mamoru sighed with relief when the emerging figure took Usagi's familiar shape. Her forearms rested on the chest-high brick wall that encircled the garden as she gazed at the city that was laid out before her.

"Usagi?"

Her head rose slightly at her name. Mamoru couldn't help noticing that she wiped her eyes before turning to greet him with a smile.

"Hey, sorry for running off."

"Don't worry about it," he said reassuringly, stepping toward her. "Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, everything's fine," she said with a sad smile before turning back toward the skyline. Mamoru followed her lead and gazed at the city, taking in the sights.

"You can see Tokyo Tower from here," he noted, looking down at her. She nodded. "You, uh, know about the 'Light Down Legend'?" he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Usagi scoffed. "You mean how couples that see the tower's lights turn off together will find eternal happiness?" she rattled off with a quirked eyebrow.

"That's the one," he replied with a smirk.

"First of all, everyone in Tokyo knows that legend," she said, turning fully to face him. "And second of all, I've been hanging out with Aino Minako for over a decade. At this point, I've heard about every love legend of the Kanto region at least half a dozen times."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm." She smiled at him before briefly dropping her gaze. "Hey," she said, stepping toward him and running her fingers along his lapel, "thanks for coming to check on me. It really means a lot."

"Of course," he replied, smoothing a lock of hair that had come loose from her bun.

"Listen, Mamoru . . ."

"Hmm?"

"I . . . I really am sorry for running off," she said, placing her hands on his waist. "I'm just . . . trying to work through some feelings, I guess."

"Anything I can help with?"

"It's just that, when we hung out a few months ago, I had a really great time, y'know?" She lifted her head, finding his eyes with hers.

"Yeah, me too."

"And I should have been more open with you then, but at the time I was going through a bad breakup and wasn't in a great place." She looked away as his eyebrows knit together in concern. "I think I'm still struggling a bit . . . to feel worthy, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, pulling away from him. Placing her hands on the edge of the wall, she gazed out over the city once again. "It's just that, Daisuke, my ex, he made me feel pretty worthless. And seeing you talk with Setsuna-san . . . it just kind of brought up those feelings again."

"Usagi," Mamoru began, placing a comforting hand on her back, "I would never—"

"No, no," she said, turning to face him again. "I know you wouldn't. It's stupid, really."

"No, it isn't stupid. It's . . . your feelings are valid, OK?"

Usagi nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Listen," he continued, rubbing her arms, "Usagi, I like you. A lot."

"I like you, too, Mamoru," she said, once again meeting his gaze.

"OK but Usagi, I really like you. More than I've liked anyone for as long as I can remember . . ."

"But why?" she asked, once again pulling away from him. She crossed her arms, still feeling Mamoru's warm touch under her fingers.

"Why?"

"Yes, why. Why aren't you with Setsuna-san, or someone else like her?" Mamoru pulled back, shock marring his face as Usagi struggled to keep her voice steady. "Why not Kato-san or any of the other amazing, accomplished women you go out with? Why me?" She turned away as tears threatened to fall. "Why . . . ?"

Mamoru rubbed his face for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Hey, c'mere," he said, pulling her into a hug. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. He took a moment to press a hand into the small of her back, savoring her closeness, breathing in her intoxicating scent, even as her stray tears dampened his shirt.

"Usagi . . . there will always be women out there who are more poised, more accomplished; women who hold prestigious degrees or power; but the truth is, you . . . you make me happy, Usagi." He paused, gratified to hear Usagi's breath hitch and feel her hold on him tighten. "When I'm with you, I don't feel so alone. The world seems better, kinder. . . . Usagi, when you're around, my whole world comes alive."

She sniffled, taking in his words.

"Really?" she asked, pulling back slightly to gaze up at him, tears clinging to her thick lashes like dew. He didn't need to answer; the truth was written plainly on his face.

"Frankly," he added, looking down, "I don't really know what you see in me, either."

"Are you kidding? Mamoru," she paused, gently cupping his face with her hand, "you're kind and generous . . . handsome and accomplished. But more than that, you make me feel like I'm worth something. You're . . . you're the best man I know."

He looked at her, his eyes darkening with emotion at her words. She felt lost, drowning in his gaze, until a single word passed his lips that made her heart skip.

"Usako . . ."

She reached up to him, her lips parting as he moistened his bottom lip and quickly closed the distance between them. There was nothing gentle about the kiss that followed; it was a kiss full of hunger and need. Mamoru pulled her closer, running his hands along her back even as she snaked her arms around his neck and ran her hands through his hair.

They quickly lost themselves as months and years of feeling and longing were poured into their kiss. Through colliding mouths, nipped lips, and dancing tongues they discovered and reassured each other that this is truly what they had been waiting for—a feeling at once new and familiar, both perilous and secure.

Time was meaningless to the two lovers as they lost themselves to each other, body and soul. Years could have passed—civilizations could have risen and fallen—and still, their mutual desire fuelled them on.

Usagi pulled back slightly, allowing Mamoru to light a trail of fiery nibbles down her neck, her pleading sighs encouraging him in his journey.

"Mamo . . . Mamo-chan . . ." Usagi whispered, eliciting a moan from her companion's lips. He traced back up her jaw with his nose, his breath sending shivers along her body, despite the aching warmth she felt in deep inside.

Once again eye-to-eye, Mamoru rested his forehead on hers as they struggled to steady their heaving chests and racing heartbeats.

Usagi allowed her eyes to flutter shut as she placed a tingling hand to Mamoru's chest and licked her swollen lips, already wishing they were back on his. After steadying her breath, she leaned forward, kissing him softly.

"Usako . . ." he sighed into her lips. "See what you do to me?"

She smiled, giving him another chaste kiss before resting her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, content to hold her for as long as she would let him.

"Mamo-chan," she began after a pause, interrupting his reverie, "look." He followed her gaze as she nodded toward the cityscape, where the once lit Tokyo Tower had gone dark.

He chuckled, burying her nose in her hair. "I guess that means you're stuck with me."

"You promise?" she asked, tilting her head up. He looked down to once again capture her gaze, tracing a finger along her soft cheek.

"I promise," he said, leaning forward to once again capture her lips in his own.

* * *

~Epilogue~

Most of the party guests had long since gone by the time Usagi and Mamoru emerged from the garden—Mamoru's jacket draped across Usagi's shoulders—to rejoin their three friends. Though no one mentioned their rumpled hair or flushed cheeks, (or Usagi's now conspicuously missing lipstick,) Setsuna's knowing smile, Michiru's sly smirk, and Haruka's raised brow said more than enough.

"We were wondering what became of you two," Michiru remarked as they approached. "Did you have a nice chat?"

"Yeah, we did," Usagi confirmed, looking at Mamoru with a smile before turning back to the group. "Did you all have a good evening?"

"Perfectly lovely, thank you," Setsuna responded as Michiru nodded in agreement.

"Honestly, Michiru-san," Usagi began, "thanks again for the tickets and for . . . well, everything."

"Of course, dear. And I meant it, you both have a standing invitation to my concerts."

"Thank you so much, Kaioh-san," Mamoru humbly replied.

"Any time."

"Well," Usagi said, "I think Mamoru and I are going to head out now."

"Yes, I have no doubt you'd both like to continue your chat," Michiru replied. "You probably have a lot to . . . talk about."

"Heh . . . y-yeah . . . I guess . . ." Usagi stammered as Mamoru blushed.

The couple quickly said their goodbyes, giving Michiru another round of thanks before strolling into the night hand in hand.

"What do you think, Setsuna?" Michiru asked after they were gone.

"Hmm . . . engaged within six months. Four if she has enough time to make an engagement ring sooner."

"Good for them," Michiru replied with a satisfied grin.

A loud scoffing noise caused Michiru and Setsuna to turn.

"Time to get used to him, Haruka," Michiru said, wrapping an arm around her lover's waist. "He's not going anywhere."

Haruka sighed, knowing the truth of Michiru's words. "Well, I guess he could be worse . . ." she grumbled.

"There you go," she said, giving Haruka a quick kiss. "Now, I think it's time for me to put this grouchy girl to bed. What do you think, Setsuna? Would you like a ride home?"

"That would be lovely, thank you."

"Now Haruka," Michiru remarked, snaking her arm through her lover's as they made their way toward the stairs, "if you're still a grump when we get home I might have to spank you."

Haruka sighed. "If you must . . ."

Walking just behind her friends, Setsuna smiled at their playful banter. Seeing the two people she was closest to safe and happy together always made her feel at peace. She then allowed her thoughts to wander to another couple—two people who made the world a better place, just by being in it. Knowing they had found each other and had a spectacular romance blooming meant Setsuna was content. Truly, all was right in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to send out a heart-felt thanks to everyone who joined me on this journey, and a special thank you to my beta, Antigone2. Thanks for all of the inspiration and support. :)
> 
> A few notes on this chapter:
> 
> Yes, the "Light Down Legend" (ライトダウン伝説) is totally real! It's not uncommon to find couples near Tokyo Tower around midnight, waiting for the lights to turn off together. Tokyo Tower also has a special light down schedule around Christmas, when they turn the lights down every 30 minutes (and illuminate a big heart on the side of the tower) so everyone gets a chance to find eternal happiness. ;)
> 
> The concert hall was inspired by Suntory Hall. It's gorgeous and amazing and is where all of the big classical acts perform and is super close to Usagi's 'hood and has a rooftop garden and a view of Tokyo Tower! (I suppose I should thank it for inspiring a lot of the last chapter, tbqh.)
> 
> Michiru performed three French sonatas during her home concert: Faure's Violin Sonata 1 in A, Debussy's Violin Sonata in G Minor, and Poulenc's Sonata for Violin and Piano. Her encore, as is her tradition (in my headcanon, anyway), were Kreisler's Liebesfreud (Love's Joy) and Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow).
> 
> Interested in seeing everyone's outfits? Check out: http://irritablevowel.tumblr.com/post/144001405044/in-the-last-chapter-of-stitched-usagi-and-mamoru


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